Goldenmark

by Jean Lowe Carlson

  “High General del’Ilio.” Theroun nodded at the man, though he didn’t offer to clasp arms. “You’re a long way from your battle-front.”

  “My army is in good hands.” The High General of Valenghia’s copper eyes glinted, before turning to Khorel Jornath. “So. Where do we stand?”

  “We’re with you, Merkhenos.” It was Brother Kiiar who answered, his black-on-black eyes glittering in the rising gloom as he settled his hands inside the long sleeves of his black robe. “Metrene den’Yesh herself supports our endeavors to follow this Elohl den’Alrahel as our Rennkavi rather than Lhaurent. I do believe your cunning plans are quite in luck. Quite.”

  Khorel Jornath inhaled, turning his eyes to the old man, and Brother Kiiar chuckled. “Don’t think I can’t see where a person’s wyrric imprint goes, Khorel. Metrene is cagey, and frankly insane sometimes I think, but she’s not infallible. She had private conversation with you and the High General and your Scion. Don’t deny it.”

  “Did you know she could manifest outside her Kingstone?” Jornath asked Brother Kiiar.

  “Metrene is ancient, who knows just what exactly she can do?” Brother Kiiar chuckled. “And that was no mere manifestation we saw tonight. She was there, in the flesh – created anew to journey out from her Alranstone. Her power is like wind on my tongue, ever-shifting, ever-present, ever a surprise.”

  “Is Metrene strong enough to oppose High Master Yesh?” Brother Caldrian was scowling, arms crossed at his chest.

  “Perhaps.” A frown took Khorel’s features. “Master Yesh has been our head for some three thousand years, but Metrene is his rival. Once she was wild, a chaotic thing. She was stripped of her official standing among us at the time of Leith, due to the untamable nature of her wyrria.”

  “It’s why she wears white instead of black,” Brother Kiiar interrupted. “But those who knew her back then, as Khorel and I did, know her power is stronger than all of us, perhaps even stronger than Magnus, though no one knows for certain. Only two creatures were ever able to break her. Leith Alodwine and Agni.”

  “The dragon?” Theroun startled.

  Khorel turned his way. “The dragon is far more than he seems, Theroun. I have never seen him breathe before, though something inside me always knew the creature was not quite dead. And now, as wyrria wakens in the world again with these Rennkavis—”

  “Fentleith Alodwine will rise.” Merkhenos del’Ilio interrupted, his copper eyes flashing, ferocity in their depths. “The long-lost Scion of Khehem is alive, gentlemen, something I did not tell the assembly tonight. I have found him, recently, in Valenghia, acting as protector to Elohl den’Alrahel. His magnificence causes all words to fail.”

  “So Fentleith Alodwine is alive,” Khorel Jornath breathed, a dark look of relief and pain crossing his features. “The Scion of the Wolf and Dragon. I didn’t think it was possible. He’s been dark in my mind for eight hundred years... damn Magnus Yesh and his lust for glory!” Khorel growled, his features twisting up with dominant contempt. “I will never forgive him for yoking us all against the Scion of Khehem.”

  “It was a bad move,” Brother Kiiar commented soberly, his hands tucked deep in his sleeves, “I can only imagine how much better the world might be now if we had been able to follow Fentleith at our lead all those years ago. But his wyrria was a maelstrom then, gentlemen, and if he has shut it down all this time, I wonder – how much stronger may it have grown where he cannot see it? And has he taken a long look at his shadow-will, my Brothers, in all these centuries?”

  The gathering stood silent a moment in the sounds of the ocean echoing off the walls of the sea-cave. Theroun was beginning to understand how much emphasis the Brethren placed upon understanding one’s shadow-will, and it seemed they feared what this Fentleith Alodwine might do if he didn’t understand his deepest darkness.

  At last, Khorel turned his gaze to pierce Theroun. “Join us, General Theroun. Though your powers are wild still, you’ve got enough instinct to be of use to us.”

  Theroun blinked to be addressed by his old title. He shifted, crossing his arms at his chest, scowling. “What exactly are you asking?”

  “I want you to defect from the Kreth-Hakir, with me and my Brethren here. When the time is ripe.” Khorel’s gaze was level, no subterfuge anywhere in his mind or dark grey eyes.

  “I thought that treason against the Brethren was a death sentence,” Theroun countered, interested but wary, his mind clicking through the potential outcomes. “Isn’t that your historical precedent?”

  “It is.” Khorel’s look was level, his voice stone cold. “But history concerns me not. Our High Mistress has given us a charge that splits the Kreth-Hakir Brethren. Decide now if you wish to be a part of it. If you do, you’ll be hunted for the rest of your days for defection from the Order. But I have seen deeply into Lhaurent, and eels move through his depths, slithering in to choke everything in their path. He will kill this world, you know it as well as I. I am strong, but combining minds of the Kreth-Hakir are stronger. Together, with Metrene, we are finally strong enough not to follow Magnus Yesh’s blind orders – allowing us to aid the true Rennkavi, Elohl den’Alrahel. What is your will, Theroun? The choice is yours.”

  Theroun’s gaze flicked to Merkhenos. The man wore no expression in his cinnabar eyes, his hands resting lightly upon his weapons. Theroun’s mind clicked through possibilities, considering his options. A long moment passed. At last, Theroun drew a breath, then nodded. Jornath’s smile grew pleased, his gaze penetrating as it swept every man before the tiger-eye Alranstone.

  “Hold firm. We will turn on our Brethren when the time is right, but Lhaurent and High Master Yesh must believe we give our all until that moment. And when it is over, we will stand side-by-side, Shaper-willing. In a better world.”

  With that, their coup was sealed. Wrists were clasped, slivers of mind-promise shared. High General Merkhenos del’Ilio stepped to the Alranstone, disappearing in a clap of thunder that reverberated through the vaulted cave. In silence, the five Brethren stepped down the volcanic bedrock to the cavern’s sandy floor, squelching through the brine of a high tide come and gone.

  They had an army to march out today, and each man would play his part – for now.

  A low growl stopped Theroun in his tracks suddenly. A growl that curled his hackles high – of a beast on the hunt, ready to eviscerate the thing it had stalked. A growl Theroun knew well. He turned, glancing up to a ridge of bedrock just above his position. A pair of cursed yellow eyes met his from the vaults of the cavern, vivid and daring, a hulking shadow behind those devil-orbs coiled to pounce.

  “You again,” Theroun snarled, his lips curling into a smile to see his nemesis had tracked him all the way to the sea-shore by some ungodly instinct. “Give in to me or eat me, but either way, quit being a bastard.”

  A wicked snarl lifted the Black Bastard’s jowls. With liquid grace, the ronin keshar-cat leaped down from the ledge, its enormous jaws closing over Theroun’s head. That sandpaper tongue raked Theroun’s face, marking him, as astounded chuckles moved through the cavern from his Brethren. By the time the Black Bastard released him, Theroun was all-over spittle. But his grin was viperous as he mounted up, riding his wicked cat high as the sun rose over the southern sea.

  CHAPTER 41 – ELYASIN

  Elyasin’s body was all-over sweat as she extended her hands in a bracing grip, feeling for the energy of the massive, broken shard of milky quartz before her. Concentrating on the crystal, longer than she was tall and ten times as thick, Elyasin wiped sweat from her eyes with her inner arm. Clad in only her silken undergarments with her boots on for protection and rags wrapping her knees, she radiated heat like a forge-fire from where she stood in the White Ring, the diamond-black citadel lifting to its ever-night all around. Thaddeus approached cautiously, eyeing her in the light of the three lit braziers nearby as he ran his fingertips across the golden runes upon the crystal boulder Elyasin was about to move, igniting them with white-blue
wisps to check their phrasing.

  “This one belongs halfway up number four.” He nodded to the position of the Fourth Plinth nearby, at the edge of the White Ring. Judging the distance to the plinth’s jagged origin, thrust up from the diamond plaza like a broken stump, Thad narrowed his blonde brows, then took off his spectacles to polish them. “That’s a twenty-foot move, my Queen. Would you like me to call King Therel to assist?”

  “No. Therel’s done for the day. I can do it.”

  Elyasin wiped her brow again with her arm, sweat pouring down her body in runnels, soaking her garments. She’d never sweat this much in her life. Thad offered a goblet of water thickened with salts, but Elyasin shook her head. She was already in the flow of Hahled’s wyrric power. Brimstone coursed through her muscles; lava ran her veins. She was burning up inside, but somehow her body contained it all, guiding the energy along the focus of her mind and down the wyrric red inkings that coursed along her flesh.

  Gathering Hahled’s wyrria from every corner of her sinews and pushing it down through her arms to her fingertips, her crimson inkings lighting with blue-white ripples, Elyasin tensed her hands. Hands partly aimed at the jagged mass of crystal, partly aimed at each other to concentrate the wyrric flow, she took a deep breath, then began a series of deep pants to flare her fire hotter – wilder. Pumping her breath like a bellows, she fed the fire inside her with everything she had, making her dizzy as heat rippled from her skin in a mirage.

  Thaddeus stepped back, warding his face with one hand. Like a bonfire, Elyasin’s body shed heat in waves, and she gathered it with flowing movements, down her body and into her hands, tensing her fingertips in a keshar-grip at the massive piece of crystal as her inkings rippled and flowed. The broken shard shuddered, then scooted along the ground with a screaming shriek – enough that Elyasin could feel the crystal’s innate wyrria caught in her grip. Like a lion with a bull in its claws, Elyasin sank her claws in, feeling the stone’s resonance. Wrapping its signature around her fingertips, thrusting in until she came to the core of its essence.

  With a resounding shudder, the fragment of crystal rang like a struck bell. A sweet chime filled the air, like a finger run around the rim of a wine goblet. With one last out-breath, Elyasin thrust her hands up over her head and stepped in. Like a live bird in her fingertips, the gargantuan shard heaved up, six feet above the ground.

  The massive weight of it pressed down upon Elyasin. Tremendous, it felt as if it would break her spine; as if she heaved a millstone up over her head, thrusting down on her bones and making them grind. With fast pants, Elyasin flamed Hahled’s wyrria higher. She’d practiced this numerous times now, first with shards no bigger than her arm, then with fragments the size of her body. Through trial and error, and muscle-memories she’d never had before, she’d begun to learn Hahled’s vast wyrria.

  Even so, this fragment was a challenge. A third larger than any she’d attempted to move these past six days, its humming filled her bones and shivered shockwaves down her arms. Though she didn’t touch the shard’s mass, she touched everything that mattered. Its resonance was the vessel through which its wyrria flowed, and it was this that Elyasin interacted with.

  Sliding her feet forward, Elyasin chose each step with careful grace. Without Therel to help stabilize this massive hunk of quartz, one mis-placed step could send it crashing to the plaza and shatter, or careening off. She and Therel had already made that mistake four days ago, and one piece of crystal that had been large as a bull-ox was now in fifty pieces no larger than a housecat.

  Thaddeus was their rune-cataloguer. He watched Elyasin’s movements, staying well out of her way, not making a sound and letting her concentrate. From her peripheral vision, Elyasin could see Thad’s astute gaze sliding over the shard, noting each and every sigil upon it, especially on the underside where they had been hidden from view before.

  “How much further?” Elyasin gasped through gritted teeth. Her arms were shaking, her chest collapsing beneath the weight. Her knees began to buckle, and her thighs trembled like she heaved a dead keshar in her hands.

  “Five more steps,” Thad breathed. “Three...two...one. Gently. Gently, my Queen...”

  With a smooth out-breath, Elyasin eased her hands down. Backing up, she brought her hands down in front of her core, shifting their lotus-position into a carrying position as the enormous weight came down near her pelvis. At the end of her breath, Elyasin’s silk-wrapped knees buckled, slamming into the plaza. The spar of crystal came down hard, crashing down on the diamond-black stone. Elyasin knew a moment of terror; but the crystal held fast, not so much as a single crack lancing its core or marring its surface.

  “Well done!” Thad clapped his hands.

  Elyasin collapsed. Splaying out upon the cool diamond-stone plaza, her chest heaved. Sweat dripped into her eyes, but she had no strength to wipe it away. Every muscle trembled as if she’d sprinted five leagues. Her heart hammered and heat swirled around her, making wavering images in the chill air.

  “I think that’s it for today.” Thad’s face appeared above her.

  Elyasin nodded. She didn’t even have words yet. Swallowing hard, she rasped, “water.”

  “Coming!” Thad darted off, soon returning with a golden pitcher. He didn’t ask, just doused Elyasin with it, sluicing her face and chest as he’d done numerous times before. It was bliss. She tilted her chin up, reveling in the ice-cold stream, then opened her mouth and swallowed over and over. Somewhere during the second pitcher, Elyasin was able to push up to sitting and scrub sweat from her face as Thad doused her with the rest. A third jug was proffered, and she took it with a grateful nod, heaving it to her lips and drinking thoroughly.

  At last, her vision cleared; her head ceased pounding and her bones quieted. Her muscles still shivered, but she’d been at this for over four hours today – a full thirty minutes longer than yesterday, and an hour longer than Therel. Elyasin gazed upon the massive spar of crystal she’d moved, a smile blossoming over her face. Thad heaved to a seat next to her upon the wet stone and gave a chuckle.

  “Well done, my Queen! You’ve put your King to shame today.”

  “Therel has no shame, but I’ll take it.” Elyasin’s smile brightened. These past few days, learning how to heave these shards around to get them organized so they could re-build the Alranstones at the White Ring, had been some of her best days in a long while. She felt cleansed, sweating and heaving, as if her body had been made for this. To fight – to wrestle with impossible odds and come out the victor. A deep pleasure filled her, and she turned her smile to Thaddeus.

  “Where is my lazy husband?”

  “I just saw him, relaxing in the heat pools, before we started with this last shard.” Thaddeus gave her an even bigger grin. “He’s addicted to them.”

  Massaging her bare arms, where Hahled’s crimson and white inkings curled down over them to her wrists, Elyasin gave a laugh. “I don’t blame him. I don’t know which wyrria is worse – one that burns a person up like a forge, or one that cools right through the core. I’ll go see him in a moment. Is this placed where you need it, Thad?”

  “Oh yes.” The scribe smiled brightly. “I got a good look at the sigils underneath, and it’s right in the position it needs to be to assemble the pieces of Alranstone Four. When Ghrenna does the binding-runes tomorrow, they’ll go up in a counter-clockwise spiral, starting from the broken base to the pinnacle, just as we planned.”

  “So that’s all of them?” Elyasin asked.

  “That’s all of them, my Queen,” Thad chuckled. “Thanks to your impressive feat today. Quite the capstone on our endeavors of the past week.”

  Elyasin glanced around the wide plaza of smoky black stone with its circle of bright gold and gleaming golden dais. Each of the seven broken quartz pillars now had all their gargantuan shards arranged in a spiral around their base. Most of the largest pieces were near their bases, but some of the crystal pillars had shattered all the way down. Alranstone Seven w
as a mess, its spiral more like a field of crushed stone than anything that could possibly become a Plinth again.

  “Have you finished arranging that one, Thad?” Elyasin nodded at Alranstone Seven.

  He glanced over at it and shrugged. “As best I can. All seven eyes of the Plinth are in order. The runes too, as best I can figure out. I tried to group the smallest shards near the pattern-whorls I think they came from, but some of them are so small, they’ve got no markings of any kind. It’ll be up to Ghrenna to get everything back in place. I’ve made it as simple as I can for her, but—”

  “She’s still going to have to do a hell of a lot.” Elyasin palmed her sweat-streaked gold locks from her face and flicked water from her chin. “How is she?”

  “Still traveling in trance.” Thad shrugged, his visage thoughtful and green eyes appraising. “I don’t think she’s found all the answers she wants yet, about how to put all this back together. Tomorrow will be as much experiment as anything, I think.”

  “And Luc?”

  “Luc is getting some much-needed rest,” Thad grinned, taking his spectacles down from his head and polishing them on his breeches. “He’s still out as we speak. Ever since breakfast.”

  “Did you check his breathing?” Elyasin chuckled. It was partly a joke, but partly not. Luc had been horridly sleep deprived from watching over Ghrenna by the time Elyasin recognized what was happening six days ago. Tempers had calmed since then, and they’d had no more flares of wrath – the air cleared now that Luc’s frustrations had been exposed and both Elyasin and Therel were exercising the hot and cold twinned tempers of the Brother Kings out of their bodies daily.

  “He’s breathing,” Thad’s lips curled in a small smile. “Just recovering.”

  “Thank Aeon,” Elyasin chuckled. “I thought he and Therel were going to tear each other apart a week ago.”

  “Thank Aeon indeed.” Thad nodded, sober. He gestured at the organized shards of crystal all through the black-diamond plaza. “Do you think we’ll really be able to put all this back together? It’s like the children’s rhyme of Dildrum the Egg-Man who got crushed beneath the ox-cart.”