Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four: ‘Bind ye, in confidence...’

It was all Hector could do to keep track of what was happening. First there was fog, then there wasn’t, then there was again. Then there was water flying everywhere, then glass, then ice--and all the while, a half-invisible man barreled through everything. So much of it blended together that he wasn’t even sure how to approach any of it, let alone if he could make any sort of difference. His instinct was no.

But he’d felt this way against Darktide, too. So he tried to think. If Garovel were conscious, what would he tell him to do? The same as before, probably. Be patient and watch for an opportunity. Be ready to act as soon as an opening presented itself.

But that was assuming that one would present itself. The pessimist in him was beginning to win out. It was apparent enough that this Caster Egmond guy was using destruction with pan-rozum--the familiar sound was a dead giveaway--and against that, Hector didn’t see very many options other than running.

Which was what they were doing. He stuck close to the Elroy kids, mainly just trying not to lose sight of them. At least they seemed to know where they were going.

But then something heavy flew up from behind them and sailed over all their heads, dispersing the fog in its wake, and Hector heard it crash against the wall ahead of them. A bit more running, and they saw what it was.

Lord Asad. Battered half to death. Broken bones stuck out of his flesh, twitching and adjusting themselves, struggling to regenerate as the man tried to stand. His tattoos burned with golden light, snaking off of his body like flames as his neck cracked back into place.

“Move!” Asad yelled, and a sudden glass wall shoved Hector and the children out of the way of the oncoming Marauder.

Caster plowed through the quartz and put Asad through the wall. Glass shattered in all directions, but among it, a crimson glint caught Hector’s eye.

There was a bag on the floor by Caster’s feet. The one that had been on Asad’s waist a moment ago. A couple of the red shards had spilled from it, but the half-invisible man didn’t seem to have noticed them yet and chased after Asad, instead. The Lord Elroy came following quickly after, bringing the endless fog and icy fire hose with him.

At once, Hector knew his task. He sprinted for the bag and slid into it, hurriedly pushing the errant shards back in as he tried to scoop the bag up.

A tremor interrupted him, violent enough that Hector lost his grip for a second, and three shards flew away from him. They clattered toward the Elroys as Hector scrambled back to his feet, but again, he was interrupted.

Lord Dimas came crashing through the ceiling and hit the ground so hard, it made the walls crumble. Hector flew from the impact, toppling over in midair and earning himself a broken leg from the debris. He found himself up against some other wall now as he struggled onto one knee and tried to get his bearings.

There was a shard by his foot, he realized. He bagged it and ran stiltedly over to the gaping fissure in the wall ahead of him. He could see Dimas through it, facing off against two apparent abolishers. The Elroys were there as well, though at a safe distance off to the side. They hadn’t gotten the same taste of Dimas’ arrival as Hector had, it seemed. Emiliana was holding one of the shards, as well.

Good enough, Hector felt. But there was still one more. Where was it?

The red shimmer caught his eye, and Hector saw the shard by the ruined doorway that led back in the direction they’d come from. A pair of unfamiliar men came running through it, only to get clobbered by a gravity pulse that brought down the whole door frame and a chunk of the ceiling.

The shard would have to wait, Hector decided. An iron javelin materialized in his already-throwing free hand. It launched from his grip, having hardly been there in the first place, and flew true, catching one of Dimas’ opponents in the side.

The abolisher didn’t seem too bothered by the presence of a spear in his gut, perhaps being more concerned with Dimas. Hector was fine with that. He used the spear as a growth point and added iron to it in all directions, ballooning out and stretching around the man’s torso and down his legs.

That was enough for him to take notice. He grimaced and tore through the iron like cardboard, then looked in Hector’s direction.

Hector prepared to wield his shield barehanded again, but a visible gravity pulse intervened, knocking the guy off his feet and juggling him into a sudden wall of icy skewers.

Hector might’ve taken a second to feel relieved if Caster hadn’t come charging back into the room, chased by a flurry of ice and fog. The Marauder went straight for Dimas, and the gravity wielder only just managed to slip out of the way, losing half a leg to destruction.

But of course, Dimas didn’t need the leg and caught himself in midair, hovering. Hector watched him clap both hands together, and instantly, the space around Caster distorted visibly, bending toward him.

Zeff’s fog flashed and turned to ice, and for a fleeting moment, the half-invisble abolisher became a snowman.

Caster pushed through it, of course, but he wasn’t nearly as fast as he was before. At first, Hector couldn’t tell what was happening. It was like watching a man running underwater.

The combination of crushing gravity and freezing temperatures seemed to be taking a toll--and not just on the Marauder. Even at this distance, Hector could feel the effects himself--wave after wave of debilitating pressure, weighing him down, stiffening his muscles. If he dared go any closer, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to move at all.

Caster, however, was still going. Slow as molasses, but going. And the snow and gravity stayed on him. Caster launched path after path, but even those were stunted. He seemed like he was trying to hit Dimas, but the young Lord Sebolt had no trouble avoiding them.

The Elroy children took the opportunity to flee, and Hector considered following. But that last crystal remained. Certainly, it wasn’t more valuable than his and Garovel’s lives, but all he needed was an opening. And it looked like there was going to be one. The Marauder was moving away from the shard, heading toward the room at the end of the hall.

Hector waited briefly longer, letting the distance from Caster draw out, and then sprinted for the red crystal.

He reached it just as he heard the sandstone above his head shift and crack. A path of destruction tore sluggishly through the ceiling and bent down over him into the floor and adjoining wall. It wouldn’t have hit him, but Hector moved away from it instinctively.

He had the shard, though. He didn’t even remember picking it up, but there it was in the grip of his bare hand.

The corridor rumbled another time, and Hector had to avoid a cluster of falling debris. But the rumbling didn’t stop. It sustained itself, and he could hear the walls moaning under stress.

Hector saw more paths of destruction whipping slowly around him. Caster had stopped aiming for Dimas entirely. And Hector understood why. The Marauder wanted to give Dimas and Zeff something else to do, even if that meant bringing down all of Dunehall on top of them.

He knew he had to keep moving. He sprinted after the Elroys, but before he even managed five steps, the wall next to him shifted, then exploded, showering him with debris. The shield ate most of it, allowing Hector to hold his ground this time. But that was not a good thing, he saw.

The Marauder was right there, already coming this way. And neither was he looking particularly slow anymore.

Hector’s brain reacted on reflex, and an iron platform shoved him out of Caster’s path. But the man had noticed. Before Hector could even hit the floor again, he saw the immense path of destruction that Caster left for him. A rending wave. Practically a wall. Too wide and tall to avoid in midair like this.

No choice.

He raised his shield to take it. The thing buckled and disintegrated. The path connected with his body, and the impact made every nerve in his body pulse and twitch at once.

The world bent in half. Everything around him distorted and shattered and melted--white, then gray, then black, then entirely without color altogether. Indescribably so. Hector wasn’t even sure if he was still seeing, if he even had eyes or a brain to perceive anything with.

Was this a feeling? Was this pain? Familiar, but he couldn’t tell.

There was something else, though. No. Not something. Someone. He could sense them there. Their presence. Two--no, three. Three souls suspended there along beside him. Or--no. Not beside him. Just, there. Somewhere. Distant. But also close. With him, somehow.

One of the souls was Garovel. That much, Hector could sense straight away. It was friendly, he knew, as if that were somehow a physical characteristic, no different from shape or temperature or weight.

‘Well, this is terrifying,’ came another voice. It belonged to Chergoa, Hector realized.

If one of those souls was Chergoa, then the other was almost certainly Emiliana.

Hector tried to speak but found no voice for himself--or mouth, for that matter. So he tried merely thinking, instead. ‘What’s happening?’

‘I believe we’re experiencing a hyper anomaly,’ said Chergoa.

‘What does that mean?’ Hector asked.

‘I dunno. I just made it up.’

Hector would have shaken his head if he’d had one. He was beginning to notice a family resemblance.

‘It’s okay, though,’ Chergoa went on. ‘I’ve seen this kind of thing before.’

‘You have?’ Emiliana said.

‘No,’ Chergoa said.

They all allowed a beat to pass, and Hector heard an inaudible sigh from Emiliana.

‘Do you have anything useful to tell us?’ the young Lady Elroy asked.

‘Jokes are useful. It’s important to keep the mood light whenever possible, y’know.’

‘I wouldn’t call those jokes.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Chergoa.’

‘Alright, well, if you want my best guess, then I’d say we’ve been sucked into a pocket dimension.’

‘What?’ said Hector. ‘You mean like an alternate reality?’

‘Not really, no. But kinda. A little.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Hector.

‘I dunno. Look, I said it was a guess.’

‘Agh...’

‘Sometimes, servant abilities clash in dramatic ways and end up creating really weird shit. Kinda like what we’re seeing. Maybe. And between Dimas and that Marauder asshole, it’s possible that the resulting spatial distortions caused a pocket dimension to be created. I mean, that is basically what the destruction type is. Sort of.’

‘I think I get what you’re saying,’ said Hector.

‘You do?’ said Chergoa. ‘Could you explain it back to me, then? Because I’m pretty sure half of that was bullshit.’

Hector could only return a faint laugh. He appreciated her efforts to keep them from panicking, but he wasn’t sure it was helping much.

Emiliana had the important question. ‘Are we stuck here?’

‘Uh...’ And Chergoa took quite a long time before finally saying, ‘Yeah, probably.’

Hector and Emiliana groaned in unison.

With that, however, something else occurred to him. ‘Why is it just us four?’

‘Uh--’

A different voice interrupted. ‘The shards,’ said Garovel. ‘You were both holding one.’

‘Garovel!’ said Hector.

‘Hello...’ He sounded rather groggy, now that Hector was listening.

‘How are you even awake?’ Hector asked.

‘Mm... dunno.’

Hector thought a moment. ‘And how did you know that Emiliana and I were holding shards?’

‘...Dunno that either.’

‘Garovel, c’mon. You’re supposed to have all the answers.’

‘Hey, I’ve been unconscious. What’s your excuse?’

‘I, uh. Well, for one thing, I’m not thousands of years old.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t have been born so late, then.’

‘Wow, Garovel.’

‘Anyway, Hector, I’m glad we’re not dead, but shut up for a second. What was that about a pocket dimension earlier?’

‘You were listening?’ said Chergoa.

‘To you? Never. I must’ve thought someone else was talking.’

‘Mm. Speaking of assholes, why were you sleeping on the job, anyway? I mean, laziness and idiocy are the clear answers, I know, but I was wondering if you wanted to make any excuses for yourself.’

‘It’s a side effect of Hector’s shield. Whenever he wields it barehanded, it heightens his soul defenses at the expense of exhausting me.’

‘I see. Where’d you come by something like that?’

‘A Sandlord named Haqq Najir. He wasn’t very cooperative at first, but then I told him all about my sister, and he offered the shield to us in exchange for a promise that we would never introduce her to him. It was very curious.’

That one actually earned a laugh from Chergoa.

Garovel brought the conversation back on track. ‘So you think we’re in a pocket dimension. Is that right?’

‘Pretty much,’ said Chergoa. ‘You got a better theory?’

‘Well. “Better” is a strong word. A strong, accurate word.’

‘Uh-huh. Go on then, genius.’

‘I think you’re right. I think this is a pocket dimension. And I think we’re inside the shards, right now.’

‘Yeah, I already put that together,’ said Chergoa.

‘Shame you didn’t mention it, then. Now the credit’s all mine.’

‘No one cares.’

‘Hector cares. Don’t you, Hector?’

‘...I’m not involved in this conversation.’

Expectedly, the discussion derailed for quite a while. The reapers went on and on, back and forth, and Hector was about to just stop listening entirely until Emiliana intervened.

‘This is all very interesting,’ she said, ‘but how do we leave this place?’

And both reapers shut up for a moment.

‘Well,’ said Garovel. ‘There’s good news and bad news with that.’

‘More like okay news and weapons-grade-terrible news,’ said Chergoa.

‘Wonderful,’ said Emiliana. ‘Bad news first, then.”

Both reapers hesitated again, perhaps waiting for each other to take the liberty of explaining.

‘Come on,’ said Hector. ‘Tell us.’

‘Okay,’ said Garovel. ‘When we say that we’re stuck here, we mean it. There’s literally nothing we can do besides wait for the pocket dimension to degrade on its own and let us out.’

‘Yep,’ Chergoa added. ‘And the wait could be very long.’

‘HOW long?’ said Emiliana.

‘Dunno,’ said Chergoa. ‘A few hours, if we’re lucky. A few decades, if we’re not.’

‘DECADES?!’ Hector and Emiliana both said.

‘We’d have to be stupidly unlucky, though,’ said Garovel.

‘We ARE stupidly unlucky!’ said Hector.

‘Eh, I’m sure it won’t be that long,’ said Garovel. ‘Though, even if it were, that could be a good thing.’

‘Why in the world would that be a good thing?’ Emiliana asked.

‘Soul-synchronization,’ Chergoa answered. ‘Obviously, it’d be boring as hell, but it would allow us to safely increase our soul power in a relatively short amount of time.’

‘Short amount of time?’ Emiliana sounded confused. ‘You just said it would be decades!’

‘Yes, in here it would be,’ said Chergoa. ‘But out there? Not so much.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Time and space are like butter and toast,’ said Chergoa. ‘When there’s a lot of toast, the butter gets spread out really thin. When there’s only a little toast, you end up having to cram a ton of butter on it.’

‘...Wouldn’t you just use less butter?’ said Hector.

‘No, see, the amount of butter is fixed.’

‘...Why would it be fixed?’

‘Look, I never said it was a perfect metaphor. The point is, time passes more quickly here.’

‘I thought time slowed down near black holes,’ said Emiliana.

‘This isn’t a black hole,’ said Garovel. ‘Black holes are created by condensed matter. I don’t think there’s any matter here. Only space.’

‘Oh.’

‘Also, if this were a black hole, we’d probably be dead.’

‘We ARE dead,’ said Chergoa.

‘Super extra dead, then.’

‘Eloquently put.’

‘H-hold on,’ said Hector. ‘Didn’t you say there was “okay” news, too?’

‘Yeah, that was it,’ said Garovel. ‘In theory, you and Emiliana could grow significantly more powerful in this place. Assuming we don’t go insane, that is.’

‘Eh, we won’t go insane,’ said Chergoa. ‘Not with four of us here. It’d be different if any of us were alone or unable to communicate with each other. Then we’d be fucked--I mean, er, screwed. Emiliana, plug your ears. You, too, Hector.’

Garovel laughed. ‘You don’t need to worry about Hector’s ears. I know he doesn’t seem like it, but he’s a total potty mouth.’

‘Is he really?’

‘Oh yeah. Drops f-bombs all the time.’

‘Hector!’ said Chergoa. ‘How very dare you! That is no way for a lord to behave, y’know.’

Hector decided to ignore that avenue of discussion. Something else was bothering him, anyway, and the reapers had yet to address it. In fact, he had a feeling that they didn’t even realize it yet. ‘...Aren’t you guys forgetting to explain something?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’ said Garovel.

Rather than answering, Hector waited for Chergoa. And when she didn’t say anything, he instead heard Emiliana snickering faintly.

‘They did forget,’ said Emiliana.

‘Ah--you realized it, too?’ said Hector.

‘Indeed.’

‘Realized what?’ said Chergoa. ‘What are we forgetting?’

Now Hector had to laugh a little, as well. ‘This is pretty fun.’

‘Isn’t it, though? Is Garovel always as smug with you as Chergoa is with me?’

‘Yeah. He’s always bragging about how much he knows.’

‘Ha.’

Both reapers spoke up in unison. ‘Alright, you two.’

‘Out with it,’ continued Garovel.

‘Seriously,’ said Chergoa.

‘Hmm,’ Emiliana hummed, still half-giggling. ‘Should we tell them?’

‘I guess so,’ said Hector. ‘We’d probably... be here forever if we waited for them to figure it out on their own.’

That pulled a bigger laugh out of Emiliana.

‘I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves,’ said Garovel. ‘Are you done?’

‘Couple of real jerks, our servants.’

‘It makes sense, though,’ said Hector. ‘That they wouldn’t think of it, I mean. This is how they always talk.’

‘Oh, that is true,’ said Emiliana.

‘Would you just spit it out already?’ said Garovel. ‘This is getting ridiculous.’

‘Okay, okay,’ said Hector. ‘I understand everything else you said, more or less. Pocket dimension or whatever. No bodies here, no matter. Only our minds. Right?’

‘Yeah?’ said Garovel.

‘And uh, I get that we can hear your guys’ thoughts. You’re reapers. You can, er, communicate with souls directly or whatever. That makes sense.’

‘Uh-huh?’ said Chergoa.

‘But then... why can Emiliana and I hear each other?’

‘Oh, well, that’s...’ And Garovel just stopped.

Hector waited, but the reaper didn’t finish. ‘...Garovel?’

‘Uh... hmm.’ Garovel paused another time. ‘Actually, that’s a really good question.’

Chergoa had to chime in now. ‘Er... yeah. Huh. You two shouldn’t be able to hear each other. Your souls aren’t bound together. You should both be able to hear me and Garovel, but you definitely shouldn’t be able to hear one another. That’s... really weird.’ And she waited a second before giving them another, ‘Huh.’

‘I can’t tell if they really don’t know,’ said Hector, ‘or if they’re just messing with us again.’

‘I think they are being serious,’ said Emiliana. ‘They would not purposely make themselves look ignorant.’

‘Ah, you’re probably right.’

‘Hmm,’ said Garovel. ‘I don’t like how well these two are getting along all of a sudden.’

‘Me neither,’ said Chergoa. ‘It was a mistake to allow our servants to mingle. We should release them and start over.’

‘Good idea.’

‘So basically,’ said Hector, ‘you two have no idea what’s happening here at all.’

‘Agh, it must be the shards,’ said Garovel.

‘You’re just gonna blame everything on the shards, aren’t you?’ said Hector.

‘It’s the only explanation, really. Stupid soul-catalyst bullcrap. I wonder if even Qorvass understands how they work. I bet he just pretends like he does.’

‘Because that’s what you would do?’ said Hector.

‘Hell yeah. Bullshitting is a very valuable skill, my friend.’

‘So you guys don’t even have a theory?’ Hector asked.

‘Not really,’ said Chergoa. ‘Why? Are you saying that you two whelps do?’

‘Oh, uh, no,’ said Hector. ‘Or at least, I don’t.’

‘We were only teasing you about forgetting to explain something,’ said Emiliana. ‘We didn’t think there WASN’T an explanation.’

‘Hmm,’ said Garovel. ‘Well, anyway, it looks like we’re going to be here a while. We should try to keep ourselves entertained. How have you been, baby sister?’

‘Oh, I’ve been good. Apart from the whole almost-dying-thing, today’s been lovely.’

‘Mm. And Emiliana, how are you?’

‘Ah... confused.’

‘Wonderful. Anyone up for a game? I’m thinking of a number between one and six hundred billion. Take your time answering. No rush.’