Dawn of Swords(The Breaking World)

CHAPTER


28


As if the cold weren’t bad enough, dampness now soaked into Roland’s bones as he pressed against the jagged stone wall, knees to his chest, shivering. His lungs burned with each struggling breath and his heart raced. He felt like he was about to die, so intense was the pain that filled him. He had never experienced anything this horrible in all his life. He began to moan, the sound of his chattering teeth bouncing off the cave walls.

“Please stop,” Jacob’s voice said. “If you’re cold, put this on.”

Something heavy flew through the air, landing beside him with a wet plop. He drew his head out from between his knees and saw Jacob’s cloak lying in a heap next to him. He grabbed it, and though the outside was sodden, the inside was dry. He hurriedly draped it over his body, and after a momentary rush of even more coldness, his body began to warm ever so slightly. He stopped shivering, and even though his lungs still hurt, at least the rattle he’d felt earlier had dissipated.

“Better?”

Roland slid his back up the jagged wall until he could see over his knees. Candlelight flickered all around him, illuminating the rock formations that hung from the cave’s ceiling. Jacob was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, wearing nothing but his thin tunic. Somehow, he seemed oblivious to the cold. His dark hair hung in front of his face as he leaned over his journal, his blue eyes darting back and forth, absorbing the words he had just written therein. He’d held the same pose ever since they’d ducked into this cave in the mountainside after fleeing Uther Crestwell and Karak’s hidden army. Jacob had instantly yanked the journal and writing utensils from his rucksack and started scribbling away with his quill, dipping it into the inkwell as if possessed. When it came to his journal, the man was practically inhuman.

Every now and then they heard the shouts of their pursuers outside the cave walls, and more than once Roland had to plead with Jacob to extinguish his candle.

“Don’t worry, they will not find us,” his master said dismissively each time, and in the end the First Man had been right. No one had entered the cave, and the ruckus outside had died down to nothing.

It seemed like hours had passed, and yet Jacob still wrote as if his life depended on it. Every so often he lifted his head and rested the feather of his quill against his chin in thought, the light from the candle illuminating only his cheeks, making his eyes black voids of nothingness. Roland had asked him several times what was so important that he had to write it down right there and then, but Jacob simply brushed aside his questions and bent back over his journal. He wished his master would talk to him, if for no other reason than to distract him from the horrible images running through his mind, the memories of the ravine that just wouldn’t leave him alone.

The warmth gradually returned to his bones, thanks to his master’s cloak, and Roland stood up. He stretched his numb legs, cracked his sore spine, and wrapped the cloak more tightly around him. The roof of the cave was low, so he had to stoop a bit as he crossed the short expanse separating him and Jacob. The First Man didn’t look up from his work, not even when Roland’s hand fell on his shoulder.

“What is it?” Jacob asked, still jotting down letters in his tight scrawl.

“Please, master, just tell me what you’re doing.”

For a moment Jacob said nothing while his hand continued to craft words on the parchment, but finally he placed the quill on the damp stone beside his skinning knife and looked up at him.

“Done,” he said. There was a wide smile on his face.

“So.…”

Jacob shook his head, as if he’d momentarily forgotten where he was, and then said, “I apologize, Roland. I needed to document what we just witnessed while it was still fresh in my mind. The words the mad priest spoke, the gestures he made, the symbols they used, all of it.”

“But why?”

“Roland, you’ve known me your whole life,” Jacob replied. “When have I not written down the things I’ve learned?”

“But did you have to do it while we’re hiding from those who wish to kill us?”

“Come now, Roland,” said Jacob, shaking his head. “What should I have done? Huddled in the corner, afraid and unwilling to do anything about it? Ashhur forbid I find a way to pass the time instead of worrying about my beloved Brienna.”

Roland stepped back, his heart sinking in his chest. He felt his face drain of color, and his throat hitched. Jacob noticed this and shot to his feet, whacking his head against the ceiling of the cave in the process. He cursed and rubbed his wound.

“I’m so sorry, Roland,” he said afterward, wrapping his arms around him. “That was foolish of me. I need to remember that you have been sheltered…all of you have. You may be a man now, but inside you’re still a child, as are your mother, your father, and your siblings. None of you have seen the things I have, nor experienced your life nearing its end. I should be more understanding.”

“It’s all right,” Roland whispered into his master’s shoulder.

“No, it’s not. I was thoughtless and cruel. Now here, sit down and let me show you what I’ve written.”

“Shouldn’t we be leaving?” asked Roland. “We need to find out if Azariah and Brienna made it back all right. And someone needs to find out about that army!”

“Not now,” replied Jacob. “I’m sure Az and Brienna are fine. They’re more than capable, and the river’s current is strong, besides being a much more direct route than by foot. They’ve probably already told Turock about what we saw. Uther’s men may still be out there searching for us—in fact, I’m sure of it. I say we wait for daylight so that nothing can leap out at us from the darkness. Now sit down.”


Roland did, and for the next hour he listened to Jacob prattle on about his theories on ancient rituals, thin points in time, and bridges between worlds. The First Man tried to show him some of what he had documented, explaining his assumptions and conclusions about what they’d seen, but it was so far above Roland’s head that all he heard was gibberish. Jacob seemed agitated, however, and so Roland sat back, listened, and pretended he understood. He did not want to risk his master’s ire if he were made to repeat himself.

“But the best part,” Jacob said, “is that I think I have finally discovered the missing piece. For years I have searched for the missing words, the magical syllables and phrases that would allow for passage between one world and the next. It is obvious that Uther discovered such rites, for how else can we explain what happened tonight, that floating, fleshy portal above the ravine? It’s astounding, really.”

Roland shivered at the memory.

“It was disgusting,” he protested. “Disgusting and immoral and, well, evil.” He surprised himself then, as he had never used that word—evil—before in his life. Until tonight, it had been an abstract concept that existed only in the Wardens’ stories.

Jacob looked at him for a long moment and then shook his head and smiled.

“Yes, of course. The death of innocents is always disheartening.”

“Then why do you speak of it as if you don’t care?”

“It’s not that I don’t care,” Jacob said with a shrug. “It is only that, in the universe at large, death is a natural occurrence. You don’t see a mother deer decrying the unfairness of it all when her child is eaten by a wolf or wildcat. You do not see a school of fish protest when one of their numbers is caught in a fisher’s nets. And you certainly don’t hear one word of complaint from the hyenas when one pack comes in and overthrows another. The cycle of life is all about survival, of moving from one point in time to the next without losing your neck. You have been protected in Paradise, and you haven’t been shown the truth of existence outside your perfect little bubble. I have. I was here long before any other human stepped foot on this land, and therefore I can be a bit more…objective about the matter.”

“The way you speak,” said Roland. “It’s like you disagree with everything Ashhur has taught us.”

“You misunderstand me,” Jacob replied. “Come now, boy. I have resided in the west for nearly twenty years. I have stayed because I chose to stay, because I believe in the purity of the ideals Ashhur teaches. Just because I may be critical of your lack of knowledge does not mean I am critical of the way of life. I just wish that sometimes things were more…balanced, I suppose. No matter how hard Ashhur tries, this world will never be perfect or absolutely safe. I fear for how Paradise will handle hardships, even those that are temporary.”

Roland scratched at the week’s worth of stubble covering his chin.

“I see,” he said. “But Ashhur has said that to reach the golden eternity, we must be pure of heart. Can we be pure of heart if we’re taught these things?”

Jacob set down his plume.

“Who was your family’s Warden?” he asked.

“Um, Loen. Why?”

“Ah, Loen. He of the tall tales. Did he ever tell you the one about the witch who lured two small children to her home, wishing to fatten them up and eat them, only to be stopped by the brave knight who comes to rescue them?”

“Yes. The story of Penelope and Rutgard. Why?”

“Think about it, Roland. It is a story of a witch…who wants to eat children…until she is slain by a knight.”

The reasoning snapped together in Roland’s head.

“Oh,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Jacob. “Knowledge is never evil. What Uther did may be vile, but the knowledge of it is still fascinating to me, and might serve some greater purpose in my hands in the decades to come. The same goes for you. Although you have learned of violence, you, Roland Norsman, still have one of the purest hearts I have ever encountered.”

Roland’s face reddened.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Now go away for a while,” the First Man said with a wave of his hand.

They laughed together, but after a few moments Roland realized that Jacob was serious. His master sat there, straddling his journal while the candle flickered away, staring at him. Finally, Roland said, “You really want me to go?”

Jacob nodded.

“But where?” Roland replied, aghast.

“There’s a ledge beside the cave entrance. Why don’t you head out there for a bit, sit and watch the sunrise, perhaps?”

“But…why? And what if there are men out there waiting for me?”

“There aren’t any men out there,” replied Jacob with a sigh. He pointed to the ground before him, where a pair of glass beads shimmered. “See these? I tossed a few of them out over the ledge after we scurried up the side of the mountain. Should anyone pass within the scope of their magic, these beads—the twins of the ones I threw—will shine, alerting me. You will be safe out there, believe me, and with my cloak, which was charmed by the great elf Anton Ludden of Dezerea, you will not be affected by the cold. As for what I’m doing…let’s just say that I wish to try a few experiments.”

“You’re going to try to reach across the void, aren’t you?”

“Something like that.”

Roland suddenly felt faint.

“Easy now, boy,” said Jacob, his eyes widening as he rose off the ground to try to calm him. “I do not wish to release any demons or any such nonsense. I’ve been altering some of Uther’s words, and I think I have found a way to commune—to commune, you hear?—with beings from a different plane of existence. I only wish to talk, to learn. Nothing more. Please, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Then why are you sending me off?”

Jacob let out a sigh.

“Because no matter how certain I am, I’m also not arrogant enough to think it’s impossible for me to be wrong. If there is danger, you’ll be safe out there…and you won’t be in my way if I need to handle a tricky situation. For all I know, we might get a glimpse of the beast of a thousand faces, and I’d rather spare you that. The sight might cost you your sanity.”

“And you don’t fear for yourself?”

The First Man grinned and pulled the crystal Brienna had given him from his pocket.

“I do not, my dear steward, for love is my safeguard. And besides, it won’t happen. This is a precaution, nothing more.”

Roland nodded. He didn’t like the idea in the slightest, but in the end he trusted Jacob Eveningstar more than anyone in the world. If Jacob said everything would be fine, then everything would be fine.

“Very well,” he said with a nod. “Come find me when you’re finished.”

“Oh, and Roland,” said Jacob, reaching down to grab his wineskin off the floor. “Take this with you. The cloak may keep you warm, but if you really wish to keep the shivers away, take a few sips of what’s inside.”

Roland stared at the skin, jiggled it, and heard liquid swish.

“I will,” he replied. “But please, take care of yourself.”

“I will. You have nothing to worry about.”

Roland picked up his candle, turned away from his master, and squat-walked his way back through the cave’s narrow passageway. The channel seemed thinner than it had before, his uncertain nerves playing games with his sense of perspective. He took a deep breath and, telling himself that Jacob knew best, tried to clear his mind of unease.


He walked out into the cold air of night, a biting wind assaulting his face the instant he stepped outside. He flipped the hood of Jacob’s cloak over his head and immediately felt its blessed warmth. He then positioned himself against the side of the mountain, a few feet from the opening to the cave, and slid down to his rump, tucking his legs up under the cloak after he was seated. He listened for signs of life around him, but all he could hear was the rush of flowing water somewhere off to his right. For the moment, at least, he seemed to be alone. Tilting back the wineskin, he took a few swigs of the bitter fluid, feeling the alternating burn and comfort as it slid down his throat. Then he stared at the sky, noticing that a few streamers of deep purple were beginning to crawl their way across the horizon. That meant sunrise was only an hour away, two at most. Although he was sitting on the wrong side of the mountain to actually see the sunrise, as Jacob had suggested, that was fine by Roland. He was much more interested in the way the rising sun changed the colors in the sky, the way it shoved aside the darkness like Ashhur vanquished pain and sin from the hearts of his children.

His head began to grow dizzy, and Roland leaned back against a hard stone. For a second he thought he heard multiple voices whispering from somewhere deep within the cave, but the dizziness increased, and soon all he heard was the rush of blood between his ears. He didn’t fight against the sensation, and a few moments later, he was fast asleep.





When he opened his eyes again, the day was bright as could be. The sky was no longer overcast, the way it seemed to have been during their entire stay in the Tinderlands. Roland found himself lying face down in the dirt. He rolled onto his back, stretched his arms high above his head, and yawned.

When he sat up, a strange wave of vertigo came over him. He teetered there for a moment, his stomach feeling as if it would empty itself of its meager contents. The only other time he’d felt this way was when he’d stolen a few swigs of ceremonial wine when he was fourteen years old. He’d become extremely ill, and his head had ached for days afterward. He pulled the hood of Jacob’s cloak down low, shielding his eyes from the day’s brightness, and looked around.

He was still on the ledge outside the cave, and by the position of the sun, which was still hidden behind the peak of the mountain behind him, he assumed it was early morning. That meant he’d been sleeping for perhaps two or three hours. Still feeling queasy, he lifted the wineskin, which lay empty beside him, and stared at it.

That has to be the most potent wine I have ever tasted, he thought. He had only imbibed of a drop or two. That was when he realized how long Jacob had left him out here. Panic surged through him. In his mind’s eye he saw his master lying in a pool of blood, his body mutilated by whatever strange creature he had been trying to commune with, dismembered like the poor folks whom Karak’s followers had butchered the previous night.

A strange sound reached his ears, like the screeching of a distant hawk, and Roland’s panic multiplied. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the dizzy spell that ensued, and stared across the wide space of dead, sloping earth. He was high up on the side of the mountain, which offered him a clear view of the land for miles. To his left were numerous mountains and hills, all brown limestone and craggy granite. In the center was a valley filled with patches of yellowing grass, at the end of which was another slight rise that emptied out into a huge, circular depression—most likely the same depression where the horrible ritual had taken place. Nothing was alive anywhere he looked. In fact, it wasn’t until he glanced to his right, where the waters of the Gihon flowed, that he saw any movement at all.

The hawk’s screech came once more, and he squinted against the bright light and the headache that spiked behind his eyes, trying to make out something far off in the distance. A thin black cloud sprouted from a tiny monument somewhere on the far side of the river, seemingly miles away. The distant black cloud rose higher and higher, its smoky tendrils wafting this way and that. When it mixed with the puffy white cumulus that hung low on the horizon, the different colors of vapor combined, and Roland swore he saw the visage of a roaring lion.

That was when he realized that the tiny monument producing the smoke was the half-constructed tower by the Drake Township. Panic swelled inside him. He imagined Uther Crestwell and his minions performing the same rituals they had enacted the night before on all the poor, tormented people of Drake.

“Ja-COB!” he screamed, falling back against the side of the mountain, his fingers digging into the rock and dirt. He scrabbled across the ledge, lingering in front of the cave’s mouth. A moment later Jacob emerged into the light of day, his dark hair disheveled, his tunic ripped and torn, his face smeared with a crusty sort of dirt.

“What happened?” he asked, looking and acting as dazed as Roland felt.

Roland’s fear overwhelmed any relief he might have felt for the fact that his master was alive and well. Unable to form words, he pointed toward the smoke, which now rose in twin columns. Jacob followed his finger, and the First Man’s eyes opened wide.

“Wait here!” he shouted and then disappeared back into the cave. When he reemerged, he was carrying his hastily packed rucksack. He took Roland by the arm and began leading him down the steep side of the mountain at a fast clip. Both of their feet slipped and slid on loose rocks, and Roland feared he might fall the rest of the way on his face. It didn’t escape him how miraculous it was that they’d scaled this peak in near-complete darkness only a few hours before, but that thought was soon swallowed by the terror that steadily rose up his throat.

For now there weren’t two columns of smoke, but four. Jacob pulled him along all the faster, steering him toward the river.

He never once asked Jacob what had happened with his experiment. At that point, the only thing that mattered was reaching the camp before it was too late—which it probably already was.