Only the ancient Dar’Nethi King D’Arnath and his Heirs had ever been able to control this chaos. According to the Dar’Nethi, D’Arnath’s Bridge across the Breach was all that kept the worlds themselves from slipping further into ruin. According to the Lords and the Zhid, the Bridge was a blight on the world that prevented the full use of power and enslaved all true sorcerers to the greedy, spineless royal family of the Dar’Nethi. Whatever the truth, until the day the Prince led Paulo, my mother, and me out of Zhev’Na, no one had ever survived a passage through the Breach without using the Bridge. Even the Lords could not travel there, nor could they feed on the terrors of the Breach to expand their power. That’s why I was such a prize for them. I was to be nurtured until I could give them the Breach.
I had almost gone mad on that journey out of Zhev’Na. In the desert I had seen men staked out in the sun until their skin shrank and grew black and brittle, so that it cracked and tore every time they moved. That’s what it felt like with each step away from the Lords. And all the while, the Three were offering me release from the pain and reminding me of the power and immortality I was leaving behind, tempting me to take refuge in the cold, unfeeling darkness we shared.
But my masters had taught me well to ignore pain. As my father led me through a sea of rotting corpses and gales of acid wind, I rid myself of every thought, every sensation, every memory, every instinct. I forced my whole being - mind, soul, heart, senses - numb and empty. That should have been enough. But the pain got worse, and the Lords whispered and teased and tempted until I was half crazed with it.
I wasn’t sure what happened then. I tried to drown myself in chaos, thinking that only death or madness would silence the Lords’ whispers. For the rest of that crossing, I was very much a part of the Breach, like a bottle of seawater submerged in the ocean. Only when my father carried me into the green world once again did the chaos drain out of me like the water running off as you walk out of the sea. Then I was just empty again.
So that’s how I knew where we were as we stood on the dark crag, buffeted by a gale that blew cold from one direction, and then hot from another, and then slowed to a balmy breeze sighing and swirling about our legs like a cat’s tail. I knew it in the same way I knew how to walk and how to breathe.
Our perch stuck out of a rugged ridge that stretched as far as we could see to our right and left. In the distance the eerie light revealed clusters of twisted shapes that looked like trees, but my dreams had shown me that they were, in fact, oddly formed towers. A few spidery paths threaded their way through the lowlands from the vague distances to left and right, converging on a low range of hills in the center of the horizon. Beyond the hills… yes, there it was again, lit by another flash of green lightning… stood the spiral tower from my dreams. Vroon had shown it to me when I dreamed of this place, but I had never determined whether he was trying to get me to go there or warning me to stay away.
Paulo stood at my shoulder. “So what do we do now we’re here, whether this is the Breach or somewhere else? How does this tell us what happened to the Lady, or why the Prince is so sure you’re still one of the Lords?”
“I don’t know. I just think the answer must be here. But we ought to wait for better light before we head down, I think.”
“I’ll stand watch. Can’t go back, and I’m not going anywhere without you’re close, so you might as well get some sleep if you need to.”
I huddled in the lee of a mottled gray rock, cracked down to its heart with a dead shrub sticking out of it, but I didn’t think I could sleep. I just sat there wondering if my real life would show up in my dreams, now that my dreams were outside of me.
“Here.” No mistaking Ob’s massive presence. I peered out from under my heavy eyelids. The leathery man squatted beside me, smiling. Astonishing how the sound of a word can tell you so much. He wasn’t offering to give me anything or calling me to come somewhere other than the place I was. His simple word was spoken in pure wonder. I was here. In this place.
“I am most definitely here,” I said, standing up and wishing for the cloak and blanket I’d left behind on the moonlit ridge in Valleor. The alternating gusts of hot and cold wind were equally unpleasant through my damp clothes. “ ‘Where next’ is likely more important right now.”
“Most eagerly are you expected,” said Vroon. “Your subjects await your command. Devastatingly honored are we to lead you to your abode, where you will take up your kingdom and order it as to your least desire. May you reign until the Unbounded is no more, and the Bounded has grown ancient in its days!” It was somewhat difficult to interpret these pronouncements, as Vroon’s face was flat against the stone at my feet.
“Take up my what?”
“Your kingdom, sire.”
“Vroon, would you please stand up? I can’t hear over this wind.”
Though it seemed I had dropped off to sleep, I could not have slept long. The land was still locked in night, and I didn’t feel as if I’d slept an entire day around. Storms raged across half the sky. Vroon popped to his feet, but kept his eyes cast down. “We have prepared a wall place of magnificence, a fastness as befits our king. If it pleases you not, we will slay the makers who chose wrongly and start again.”
If my damp and dirty clothes hadn’t itched me so sorely, and if my empty stomach hadn’t rumbled so convincingly, I might have thought this was another bizarre dream, where everyone makes sense to each other, but not to you. “Where is your king?”
“Here, great Master! You are the king, the One Who Makes Us Bounded. You have found your way here as the Source prophesied, and have come to lead us to victory over other bounded worlds. Your glory will be everlasting!” The dwarf snuffled in his beard and fell down to the ground again. By this time Ob and Zanore had flattened themselves on the damp rock, too.
“No, no. There’s been a mistake. I’m not a king… and not likely to be… ”
I was the designated successor to a king. Yes, the person who reigned in Avonar was called “the Prince” or “the Heir of D’Arnath.” But that was just because the Dar’Nethi thought that no one since the great D’Arnath himself had been worthy of being called king. But even if I had wanted the title, I had no illusions about my claim to D’Arnath’s throne. The Dar’Nethi would have something to say about the Fourth Lord of Zhev’Na sitting in D’Arnath’s chair.
“… and I’m certainly not the king of this place. I’ve only come here to find some answers.”
“Whatever answering you desire shall be yours, most majestic one.”
Paulo had propped his shoulder against the sheer cliff face. In between yawns, he cast a hostile eye on the rest of us. “Might start your reign by asking about breakfast, Your Majesty. They seem set on pleasing you.”
I wanted to kick him. Zanore popped his silver-haired head up from the stone, his amber eyes gleaming in the dark like hot coals. “Shall we slay this rudeness-speaking, Majesty?”
The three of them seemed to know everything I felt and take it much too seriously. “No! Most certainly not. Don’t kill anybody.”
“Appreciate that,” Paulo grumbled. “Just let me starve slowly. Do you know how long you were asleep? It was at least - ”
“Look,” I said to the three, “is there someone who can answer some questions? Someone with some authority? Who sent you to find me?”