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Bending, Jaiddon scooped up a fistful of ash and placed his will upon it. Form
broke and ran fluid at his touch as he repatterned Shape to match desire.
Controlled, that which seconds ago had been ash assumed the outline of a
longsword. Jaiddon tested the balance, then grimly inflected the pattern of
tempered steel.
The weapon in his hand warmed. Its rough surface acquired the glassy bluish
sheen of the forge. Jaiddon shivered with impatience.
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The change would take too long. The demons had sensed his presence, and with a
hiss like a water kettle, two of them charged. The patterning was not yet
complete, but Jaiddon had no choice. He raised his blade to meet them.
The demon that rushed at his throat was impaled. It screamed and wrenched. The
half-finished sword snapped off near the hilt. Jaiddon fended the second one
away with his forearm. Teeth and nails tore like knives through cloth, then
flesh.
Jaiddon bashed himself clear with his knee and thrust the demon back with the
jagged remnant of his blade. It sidestepped and spat. Jaiddon turned with it.
The fallen one writhed underfoot, treacherously close. Nearby, the third
crouched, watching with a baleful yellow eye.
'Render!' Jaiddon forced the word around the terror that gripped his tongue.
Nimbly avoiding the steel, the demon attacked, slashed, and twisted clear
ofJaiddon's riposte. Thin furrows opened in Jaiddon's arm as it struck. Blood
soaked through shredded silk shirt. Fear made the breath rattle in his throat.
Circling, feinting, he survived two more rushes. Sweat stung his eyes. The
demon was still unmarked. The third crouched, still, to one side. Jaiddon knew
he was finished when it chose to fight.
Raising his free hand, Jaiddon shaped in glowing lines that portion of the
Pattern that sealed its final
Solidity. The demon hissed in fury and sprang for Jaiddon. Patterning broke
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with an aching flare of light. The creature bore him down. Hot breath scalded
his skin. Fangs mashed his shoulder, and the demon's nails gashed at his side
and back. Jaiddon battered unsuccessfully with his hands. Dizziness whirled
his head. All would be lost in a matter of seconds. Aware of nothing but the
final darkness that closed over thick as water to drown him, Jaiddon threw
himself into a last, desperate attempt to Shape.
He wakened, choking. Water and blood had soaked his hair and clothing.
Callused hands shook him.
'Death, 'e looks like the sharks been at 'im,' said a voice from above.
Jaiddon opened his eyes, blinked. He lay in a boat. Two strangers stood over
him with faces bearded, gaunt, and peeling from
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overexposure to the sun. He struggled, craned his neck, and tried to see over
the gunwale.
'Easy, lad,' said the man. His fingers tightened on Jaiddon's shoulders,
making dizziness flood back. 'Ye come near to drownin'. Best stay still a bit
an' catch yer breath.'
Jaiddon closed his eyes and wrestled despair. He had fallen into the hands of
the Renders. Why was he not dead? Where was Circadie?
'Let me be,' he said softly as soon as he could speak. The hands fell away.
Jaiddon sat up, gripping the boat with bloody fingers. His body burned like
fire, it was cut in so many places. When he stared outward, a triple image
assaulted his eyes. If he looked with a Shaper's perception, the hills of
Circadie appeared, churned and distorted where the Renders' thoughts had
warped its form. The Pattern of Solidity glowed through, serene and blue where
it remained whole, black and gapped where the Renders had broken through. On
top, pale and insubstantial as a ghost's drawing, moved the heaving, restless
shoulders of ocean swells that stretched in endless ranks to the far horizon.
Jaiddon fell back, suddenly weak. In his last moment of awareness, he had
sought to Shape himself a form beyond the Void. He should have died. Instead,
his dying act had transformed him close enough to
Reality that the Renders could perceive him. When the sun rose, his flesh
would cast shadow, as did all
Substance.
Jaiddon dared a look at the Renders. Two stared at him with eyes that bore the
haggard stamp of hardship. The third lay grotesquely sprawled and still in the
stern. Jaiddon recognized the Render he had inflected with a fragment of the
Pattern. Remembering, also, the demon that had fallen beneath his sword,
Jaiddon drew a painful breath and spoke.
'What happened to Alaric?'
The Renders started. One of them blanched with fright.
'Dead,' said the larger of the two. ' 'E woke up raving an' died. It was
madness that done for him, but how did ye know his name?'
The other Render started forward and shouted. the knew because Satan sent him!
Didn't he appear at the moment of Alaric's exorcism?' He pointed an accusing
finger at Jaiddon. 'You come from Hell, your purpose to tempt us from faith.
God will punish us for bringing you aboard.'
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The large Render spat. 'The devil, Chaplain? Do ye smell brimstone?' Laughter
followed, but it was forced.
Jaiddon raised himself onto the seat in the bow. Dizzy, sick, and weak as he
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