Blade Kin by David Farland

the black hill, blood flowed like a stream. Tull realized that Chaa had been scratching and picking at that dark place, and now he had pushed a seed into it, and he could feel the seed swell and grow, rumbling in its power.
    “The tree grew fast, faster than Man of Peace could imagine, and it filled the sky so that the stars hung in its midnight-blue limbs like ornaments, and it became the World Tree, where the future hung heavy on the branches like globes of fruit. It is above you even now, and Man of Peace knew that if he climbed that tree, it would take him into the future, where he could explore its many branches, but Man of Peace did not want to climb among the tall branches; he only wanted to climb the trunk, then look up at the leaves to find where the slavers hid.”
    Tull studied the World Tree bursting from his belly. Its bark was rough and black like the bark of an oak, and it was tall with many branches. He could no longer see his feet. The trunk of the tree was enormous—filling the room, and the tree itself filled the sky. Stars blazed among its branches, moons hid in its leaves, and the tree was dark blue, the hue of the dark between the stars.
    A flame leapt at the tree’s trunk right before Tull’s eyes—a single streak of pink lightning, and it tentatively wavered at the bole of the tree.
    “That is right, let Man of Peace climb,” Chaa urged. “There is so much to see in that tree. Its roots stretch deep into the past, and its branches flare wide into the future, twisting endlessly. Only here do the two halves join in a single moment. Let Man of Peace climb. Do not try to stop him. Don’t even try to help him. Man of Peace has climbed many trees, and needs no help.”
    Tull watched the lightning waver at his belly, pinker than the sunrise, then begin to climb. Tull asked, “Why is Man of Peace pink?”
    “He only looks pink today,” Chaa answered. “Turn your eyes toward me. Look at the lightning of my soul.”
    Tull turned, saw blue lightning dancing over the black hollow of Chaa’s soul. The Spirit Walker’s body was but a pale shadow, like the flesh of a jellyfish. Within the gelatin lightning played, and the black sphere seemed small, a tiny black hole like the iris of an eye. The gelatin, the sack of flesh, was tinted slightly blue, coloring the lightning.
    Tull gazed at his own navel, saw the hollow of his soul—large, like a huge ball, and the pink lightnings flashed over it, and the gelatin of his body colored the lightning pink.
    Man of Peace had nearly climbed the tree, and Tull wondered what would happen if he fell. He became very concerned. The lightning snapped back into him.
    Chaa swore mildly. “You were almost there! Here, Tull, close your eyes. If you must look anywhere, look at me. Let the Man of Peace go where he will. Think only of one thing, think of the slaver he wants to see. Imagine the slaver—the color of his hair, the shape of his nose, the strong arms.”
    Tull lay for a long time, and a calm dizziness entered him. He imagined a slaver in the forest, a slaver of the Blade Kin—a tall man, human with a strong nose and single eyebrow. He hid in the woods above Smilodon Bay, at night. Tull had never seen the man’s face before, but in his heart he recognized that this was how the slaver would look. The slaver stood on the hill above Smilodon Bay, and crept quietly, all dressed in black. The man’s heart pounded, afraid. Down in Smilodon Bay, lights shone in the streets.
    Man of Peace watched the slaver, watched him and wanted something badly. Man of Peace went to the slaver, beheld pale green fronds of lightning dancing over a dark orb. Man of Peace entwined himself around a single rod of green light, and then with his tip, he danced across the dark hollow of the slaver’s soul.
    A strange sensation passed through Tull, as if a breeze were blowing through him, and Tull realized he was touching this human—that in some way, Tull’s spirit was communicating with