comprised All of Existence. He didn’t know how long he sat there. It could have been centuries, or it could have been a single heartbeat. It could have been a lifetime.
Did time even exist here?
Were the planewalkers, those beings that moved through this connective world, truly all powerful?
Was he now a god?
Chapter 19
“Do you understand?” Braxidane said at last.
Garrick sat at an otherwise empty node, his “hands” spread into the flow, his eyes closed, his head thrown back, and his mind filled with pieces of lives he had never known. The robe pulsed an unending stream of color as it protected him from the flow. He smelled power. All of Existence—the planes, the connections, and the planewalkers—throbbed in his mind.
“You feed off energy,” Garrick said.
“We feed off the flow,” Braxidane said. “Energy in stasis has no purpose.”
“Hezarin blocked Rastella’s flow, so you had me fix it.”
Braxidane’s form grew a feeling of parental pride. “You’re learning.”
“If current is all important, why did Hezarin block the passage?”
“She was upset because I wouldn’t alter the work you did to entangle the orders’ god-touched mages. But when a god takes control of a plane, she owns the entire flow within it.”
“Meaning only she can grow from it? Meaning others wither?”
“Yes.”
Garrick thought about this.
“We once fought over planes for just that reason,” Braxidane said. “Until finally it came to war throughout All of Existence.”
“Starshower?” Garrick asked.
“Elsewhere it was known by other names.”
A wave of understanding rolled over Garrick.
Storytellers made good coin telling of the cataclysmic event in Adruin’s past that, until now, Garrick had viewed with healthy doses of skepticism and disdain. But he saw just how big the world was now. And now he saw how much like a spider’s web it was, too, a sticky mass of choices and events that were all inextricably intertwined. The world was beautiful in its simplicity, awesome in its complexity. Garrick thought of the Shariaen ancients he had faced in the hills when he first traveled with Darien.
“War in Existence can happen again, can’t it?”
“Some say it is happening already. Though our council of Joint Authority was another consequence of that first battle, it does not function as it once did.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
“It seems to be the right time.”
But Garrick felt Braxidane’s lie pulse through the flow. He moved his body and felt the robe surrounding him. It was the robe that had brought him here, the robe that had given him access to this place. And Braxidane’s story had given him nothing beyond confirmation of history he had already sensed. The planewalker loomed before him, shimmering silently with blue and green pulses. Was he hoping Garrick couldn’t see through him? Was he still expecting Garrick to follow him like the puppet Braxidane was treating him as?
“There is much to think about,” he said.
“Yes,” Braxidane said. “There is much for you to think about, but you have little time. You’ve got to go back to Adruin.”
Garrick nodded.
Being here had changed him, though. It had given him sight into the minds of the planewalkers who controlled the world. And being here had given him something else, too. Sitting in the flow, feeling the power these creatures wielded had taught him that the people of his plane—of any plane, for that matter—were subservient to the planewalkers in ways they could never see. They were puppets. Pawns. The planewalker’s power was an invisible weight tied to every being in the plane. It meant that no one was truly free to live their lives to their own plan, and having seen this truth meant that he, Garrick, was the least free of them all.
He thought of Pru’s unborn child, already tied to her planewalker.
He could not let them win.
“One thing more,” Garrick said.
“Yes?”
“I will lead your Torean
Did time even exist here?
Were the planewalkers, those beings that moved through this connective world, truly all powerful?
Was he now a god?
Chapter 19
“Do you understand?” Braxidane said at last.
Garrick sat at an otherwise empty node, his “hands” spread into the flow, his eyes closed, his head thrown back, and his mind filled with pieces of lives he had never known. The robe pulsed an unending stream of color as it protected him from the flow. He smelled power. All of Existence—the planes, the connections, and the planewalkers—throbbed in his mind.
“You feed off energy,” Garrick said.
“We feed off the flow,” Braxidane said. “Energy in stasis has no purpose.”
“Hezarin blocked Rastella’s flow, so you had me fix it.”
Braxidane’s form grew a feeling of parental pride. “You’re learning.”
“If current is all important, why did Hezarin block the passage?”
“She was upset because I wouldn’t alter the work you did to entangle the orders’ god-touched mages. But when a god takes control of a plane, she owns the entire flow within it.”
“Meaning only she can grow from it? Meaning others wither?”
“Yes.”
Garrick thought about this.
“We once fought over planes for just that reason,” Braxidane said. “Until finally it came to war throughout All of Existence.”
“Starshower?” Garrick asked.
“Elsewhere it was known by other names.”
A wave of understanding rolled over Garrick.
Storytellers made good coin telling of the cataclysmic event in Adruin’s past that, until now, Garrick had viewed with healthy doses of skepticism and disdain. But he saw just how big the world was now. And now he saw how much like a spider’s web it was, too, a sticky mass of choices and events that were all inextricably intertwined. The world was beautiful in its simplicity, awesome in its complexity. Garrick thought of the Shariaen ancients he had faced in the hills when he first traveled with Darien.
“War in Existence can happen again, can’t it?”
“Some say it is happening already. Though our council of Joint Authority was another consequence of that first battle, it does not function as it once did.”
“Why are you showing me this?”
“It seems to be the right time.”
But Garrick felt Braxidane’s lie pulse through the flow. He moved his body and felt the robe surrounding him. It was the robe that had brought him here, the robe that had given him access to this place. And Braxidane’s story had given him nothing beyond confirmation of history he had already sensed. The planewalker loomed before him, shimmering silently with blue and green pulses. Was he hoping Garrick couldn’t see through him? Was he still expecting Garrick to follow him like the puppet Braxidane was treating him as?
“There is much to think about,” he said.
“Yes,” Braxidane said. “There is much for you to think about, but you have little time. You’ve got to go back to Adruin.”
Garrick nodded.
Being here had changed him, though. It had given him sight into the minds of the planewalkers who controlled the world. And being here had given him something else, too. Sitting in the flow, feeling the power these creatures wielded had taught him that the people of his plane—of any plane, for that matter—were subservient to the planewalkers in ways they could never see. They were puppets. Pawns. The planewalker’s power was an invisible weight tied to every being in the plane. It meant that no one was truly free to live their lives to their own plan, and having seen this truth meant that he, Garrick, was the least free of them all.
He thought of Pru’s unborn child, already tied to her planewalker.
He could not let them win.
“One thing more,” Garrick said.
“Yes?”
“I will lead your Torean
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