Eranda closed her eyes. “Wasn’t right of me to judge you like that,” she said. “I was scared of what’d happened, but… but you saved my life, Winter. I have you and you alone to thank for that, and I’m grateful to you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it to you before.”
Winter felt frozen as she faced Eranda in the dark room. “You’re welcome,” she muttered, unsure of what else to say.
Eranda nodded, and continued. “The exodus, this journey we’ve made, was more than I expected, I ain’t afraid to admit it. But I believe it’s been a good thing. Many of us want change for our people. You came, and suddenly things did change.”
Winter laughed quietly. She did not want to wake the children in the other room, but she was also glad the conversation had moved on from her saving Eranda’s life. “You put too much faith in me. I do not dictate the will of the people, Eranda.”
“But you could.”
“You cannot be serious,” Winter said. Most tiellans still had no idea who she was, where she came from. How she could have any influence whatsoever over them was incomprehensible.
And yet, she had faltira. She had telesis, and acumency. She had Urstadt, and she had Galce, even if he was still in Cineste.
And, really, she had nothing to lose.
“Tiellans used to have monarchs, you know,” Eranda said.
Of course she knew. Tiellan kings and queens had ruled the Sfaera for ages. Only after the Age of Marvels did they decline in power.
“We could have monarchs again.”
“Goddess, you sound like Lian.”
Eranda sucked in a breath at the name. “You bring him up so rarely.”
“I never know what to say about him.”
Darrin sang in the room next to them, and outside the hut the low buzz of hundreds of tiellans finding their own accommodation, or setting up tents, blended with the sounds of the approaching night.
“How do I sound like Lian?” Eranda asked, after a time.
Winter thought about saying goodbye and leaving before the conversation progressed any further. She did not want to talk about this now. She did not want to talk about this ever. And yet, she could not stop herself.
“He spoke of the Age of Marvels while we traveled together. He said the tiellans could become what we once were. It just… you sounded like him just now, that’s all.”
“He was the first of us to hitch himself to the Druids,” Eranda said. “After all this time, I’m glad he did.”
“You knew he was involved with the Druids? For how long?” When Lian told Winter of his involvement with the faction in Cineste—what seemed like ages ago—it was the first Winter had heard of it.
“At least a year before you left,” Eranda said. “More’n a year, in fact; it was before Knot arrived.”
Before Knot arrived. A time before time.
“He’d be proud to see what you’ve become,” Eranda said. “He’d be proud to see you leadin’ your people.”
Just like that, the crushing shame of everything Winter had done came crashing down on her. Winter had only discovered her telenic tendra when she had found Knot, about to be executed, in Navone’s Circle Square. She’d flailed about with her newfound power like an infant, slaughtering dozens of people—innocent and guilty alike. She had faced Daemons and Outsiders in Izet, only to then join Roden’s new emperor, Daval, doing his bidding simply because he had offered her faltira.
Eranda did not know what Winter was capable of.
Lian had known. And Lian had not lived long enough to see her do anything good with her power.
Would Winter?
She shook her head, breathing in quickly through her nose. Her eyes were beginning to sting, but she would not cry. Not now. Not ever again.
“He’d want you to become the queen,” Eranda said.
Winter laughed again, this time more to stop herself from weeping than from anything else. She cleared her throat, getting a hold of herself. Enough talk of Lian. There was a reason she hated talking about him, about Knot, about her father.
She did not need any more shame than she already had.
“I could not be a queen,” Winter scoffed. She, the daughter of Bahc the fisherman from Pranna, a queen. More than ridiculous. And yet, the question was not whether Winter thought she could be a queen. As silly as the idea seemed, it was certainly possible. She had faltira, after all, and she could do just about anything with that.
The question in her mind was whether or not she should. Less of a question, really, than a powerful feeling that she shouldn’t.
“The tiellans would follow you. I would follow you.”
“I may have saved your life in Cineste,” Winter said, “but it bothered you. Gord, too.”
“I am sure there is an explanation—”
“Not a good one.”
“We all make mistakes, Winter. That don’t change who we are.”
“I know,” Winter said. “But some of us are not more than our mistakes.”
22
Eastern Plains, near Takk Dusia
PEERING THROUGH HIS SPYGLASS, Kyfer watched as a group of tiellans streamed out of the woods in the afternoon sun. When he’d received multiple reports of tiellan refugees fleeing from Cineste, following in the footsteps of the first Druid group to leave the city, an idea had begun to form in his head of how to expedite his management of the tiellan problem. The Steel Regiment had been monitoring the eastern edge of the Takk Dusia, the dark forest, for the past few days, waiting for the right moment. Most tiellan groups that came through the forest consisted of a few dozen refugees, but the crowd that continued to pour out of the forest now was far larger—over a hundred tiellans so far, and counting.
Kyfer lowered his spyglass, adrenaline flowing through him. He turned to Razzo, who stood next to him. “This is it. Form up three of our cavalry companies. Any three will do. We just need five hundred or so troops to make this look realistic.”
Razzo squinted at the tiellans. “Sir… these look like families, not fighters. Are you sure—”
“I gave you an order, Captain. Form up the regiment.”
Razzo saluted. “Yes, sir.” He barked orders to two nearby legionaries, who mounted their horses. Kyfer and Razzo followed suit.
“If we don’t do this,” Kyfer said, annoyed that he felt he had to explain himself at all, “it could take weeks, perhaps months before we have real cause to quash this little tiellan rebellion. No telling what they might do between now and then, how much their force might grow, or who they might recruit. Best to nip the bud of this rebellion straight away.”
“I understand, General.”
“The first group of tiellans attacked the Cinestean City Watch when they left the city. It stands to reason this group will attack us.”
“Yes, General.”
Kyfer glared at Razzo. Usually his second was more animated than this. He didn’t know what had gotten into the man.
They rode their horses back to the Steel Regiment’s position, directly south of Takk Dusia and a few hills away from where the tiellans were emerging from the forest. Kyfer ordered his three designated companies—roughly five hundred cavalry—to ride as close to the tiellan position as they could while still remaining hidden, and to await his signal. Then, he and Razzo and a squad of fifteen other riders took off to meet with the tiellans directly.
The tiellan refugees huddled together in one huge mass as soon as they saw Kyfer and his squad crest the hill closest to them. Goddess, Kyfer thought to himself, this is going to be too easy.
Kyfer led his squad around to the front of the tiellan group, blocking them from progressing forward. He held his fist up, ordering his riders to stop where they were.
The tiellans looked up at Kyfer and his riders, clearly unsure.
Finally, after some whispering among a group of tiellans at the front of the crowd, one elf man stepped forward.
“Will… will you help us?” the elf asked. “We don’t have much food, almost no s
upplies. We weren’t ready for this journey. Ain’t got nothing to our names, left everything we had in Cineste. All we want is to move on, as quickly as possible, to find our people. If you could offer us any help at all, we’d be in your debt.”
Kyfer did not respond, and neither did his men. He’d ordered them to remain completely silent.
“What… what do you want?” the elf asked.
Kyfer and his men did not move, or say a word.
The elf looked cautiously over his shoulder, signaling behind him.
Kyfer’s grip tightened on one of his sword hilts, but the man had only signaled for some of his group to start moving around Kyfer’s squad. Kyfer raised a hand at the tiellans on the move, and the legionaries on his flank moved their horses to cut them off.
The tiellan spokesman began to walk backward, horror dawning on his face. Satisfaction rose in Kyfer’s chest at the sight.
“We just want to pass peacefully,” the elf man said, his voice rising in pitch. “We are not warriors. We have no intention of harming you, or anyone. We just want to find our people.” He signaled again, and more tiellans began walking, some of them running, toward the other flank of Kyfer’s squad. Kyfer responded by pointing in that direction, and his riders repositioned themselves to cut the tiellans off again.
If you find your people, you’ll make them that much stronger, Kyfer thought. More will follow. I will not allow it. But he remained silent.
The tiellan hastily conferred with several people behind him. He shook his head frantically, pointing at Kyfer and his squad, but after a moment he walked hesitantly forward once more.
“If… if you do not let us pass, we’ll resort to violence,” the man said. “We are desperate. There are more of us than there are of you. We’ll overwhelm you eventually. Please, if you value your lives, let us pass.”
Kyfer said nothing, but this time he smiled, and dismounted. He wore full plate armor, and it clanked as he dismounted. The tiellans had very few weapons at all among them, and the man who spoke for them had none. Kyfer walked towards the man, and tossed him the extra sword he carried at his side. Kyfer’s own sword remained sheathed.
The man looked down at the sword, then up at Kyfer. He reached down for the blade, picking it up, and Kyfer held his arms out wide, the smile still on his face.
He was close. It was almost time.
Then, with a shout, the elf charged him. The man was clearly a stranger to a blade; he held the longsword in an awkward two-handed grip, one fist clenched over the other, and slashed at Kyfer as he approached.
Kyfer leaned to the side, but deliberately timed his movement to allow the man’s strike to just barely glance off his armor, then kicked the man in the back as he stumbled past. The tiellan fell to the ground, and quickly rolled over to face Kyfer.
“You just attacked an officer of the Khalic Legion,” Kyfer said, loud enough for his voice to echo. “That is an affront we will not tolerate.”
The tiellan was now frantically backing away from him, but Kyfer caught up to him easily, smashing his armored boot into his face. Blood exploded from the tiellan’s nose, and Kyfer leaned forward to punch him with his gauntleted fist. Once, twice, and a third time, and then the man lay still.
“Now!” Kyfer shouted, and immediately the ground began to rumble. To his left, his three cavalry companies crested the hill, riding at full tilt toward the small tiellan crowd.
The tiellans had already begun to cry and scream when they saw Kyfer beat their spokesman, but now they lapsed into full panic.
Kyfer grinned as he mounted his horse and charged the tiellan force himself, finally drawing his sword. The tiellans did not all have to worry; some of them would survive. He needed some to make it back to wherever the rest of them were hiding, so he could draw out their main fighting force. There would be survivors.
But, for now, Kyfer reveled in the slaughter.
23
Odenite camp, outside Kirlan
I HAVE TRANSCRIBED THESE words for an express purpose. Part of this purpose I understand, and part of it I do not. I do know that, when these words shall be read in their entirety, it will be to help fight against the Nine.
And here I must say a few words about the Nine, for their presence on the Sfaera will one day be unleashed, and they shall threaten all that is good and virtuous.
Cinzia’s heart beat in her chest like the clapping of thunder. This was it. She was finally going to learn something significant about the Nine Daemons, she could feel it.
“Cinzi, why have you stopped?”
Cinzia looked up from the pages of the Codex and met her sister’s eyes. She was surprised to find her own stinging with the sharp threat of tears.
“I… I feel that we have needed this information for so long, and now that we are finally about to get it…”
“You feel grateful?” Jane asked.
Cinzia blinked. She would not have put it exactly that way. Gratitude was part of it.
“And doubt,” Cinzia said softly. “We cannot be sure the information Elwene will give to us will even be useful. Honestly, not much of what we have read has been applicable to our situation. With a few exceptions.”
“Not yet,” Jane said. “As for what she is about to say… should we translate it, and decide whether it is useful or not afterwards?”
Cinzia nodded. “Of course, sister.” Then, she looked back down at the shifting, shimmering characters carved into the metal page.
The Nine were once people, as normal as I, or you who will one day read what I now write.
They lived, and died, and lived again, but now they are imprisoned. While they cannot reach us, the day will come when their influence will be felt upon the Sfaera once more.
The Nine warp the reality around them, twisting humans and tiellans into darker versions of themselves, even when not physically present. With this dark corruption comes power, and power appeals to many. This manner of power will only destroy, and there is no escape from it.
The Nine choose willing avatars from among those who walk the Sfaera to do their bidding. They endow their avatars with immeasurable power, and their avatars spread their influence. When one of the Nine has chosen a mortal as an avatar, that Daemon will begin to communicate with the mortal. From such offers, turn away; any communication with one of the Nine is an abomination, and all those who interact in any way with the Nine are lost, and do not walk in the light.
An avatar is powerful, but he or she can be stopped. Decapitation is said to have worked, but this is often difficult, as the bond with a Daemon physically enhances the avatar. The avatar grows stronger than any human, with skin like stone or steel. An avatar may not fully be under the control of one of the Nine, and might be swayed to break the hold the Daemon has upon him or her. But this is only a theory, and has never been known to happen.
Avatars do the will of the Nine, and they usher in a new era, a new destruction.
Beware the day, should all Nine claim avatars on the Sfaera, for on that day they will have the power to take physical form once more. On that day, hope will die, and darkness will reign.
“What is it, sister?”
Cinzia looked up. “That is the end of the passage.”
“Very well. Shall we keep going? Or did you want to discuss what you just read?”
Cinzia did not want to do either. The information about the Nine Daemons intrigued her, it was exactly the information she had been looking for, but one paragraph stood out to her in particular.
When one of the Nine has chosen a mortal as an avatar, that Daemon will begin to communicate with the mortal. From such offers, turn away; any communication with one of the Nine is an abomination, and all those who interact in any way with the Nine are lost, and do not walk in the light.
Luceraf had communicated with her. Did that mean that she wanted Cinzia as her avatar?
Did that mean Cinzia was lost?
“Cinzia, are you all right?”
“I… I be
lieve I might need a break, Jane.”
Cinzia felt her sister’s eyes on her for a moment, when suddenly the hairs on Cinzia’s arm stood on end. A horrifying scream outside their tent made them both start.
* * *
Cinzia and Jane rushed out into the evening, trying to locate the source of the screams. They seemed to be coming from the center of the Odenite camp, not far from their tent, but other than the outline of a gathering crowd, Cinzia could not make out much. The sun had already set, darkness had fallen, and stars twinkled above.
Cinzia froze, grabbing Jane’s arm, when she finally saw what all the screaming was about.
In the middle of the camp, three bodies surrounded the central bonfire. Each had their throat cut, blood flowing out onto the grass. Above each body, suspended in the air, were three dark, shimmering portals. Strange, twisted forms emerged from the portals. The ground shook beneath her as the forms landed, still solidifying from their primordial liquid state. The shapes mesmerized the crowd.
“Jane, find Knot and Astrid.” Jane could not be here when the forms took shape.
“What about you?”
“I need to get the people away from here.” She did not wait for her sister to respond, but instead turned and moved through the growing crowd towards the center of camp.
“Everyone get back!” Cinzia shouted. “Away from the fire, away from the Outsiders! Get as far away as you can!”
Cinzia’s voice galvanized the Odenites into action. Immediately the crowd pressed back. People turned and ran, others backed away. Each Outsider now stood on monstrous hind legs, deep black eyes looking out at the crowd for the first time.
Before Cinzia could do anything else, before she could say another word, one of the monsters leapt a seemingly impossible distance, seven or eight times the length of its own body, and landed amidst the fleeing crowd, crushing people and tents beneath its huge clawed feet. The monster roared, a horrific screech with a deep, rumbling undertone, and Cinzia clapped her hands over her ears at the sound. Even through her hands, she heard another roar and more screams behind her. She turned to see the other two Outsiders charging into the fleeing crowd. One of the beasts twisted its long neck downwards to clamp its massive jaws around a fleeing Odenite. The other whipped its tail around, crashing through tents and the large bonfire at the center of camp, sending sparks flying onto the group of tents and fleeing Odenites in its path. Immediately, the tents caught fire, as did some of the Odenites.
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