by Tammy Salyer
Aside from a long-ingrained stubbornness against anything Creatress-related, the Himmingazians were a marvelously practical people. Telling the Council the truth, especially with it as obvious as it was, would undoubtedly be the best approach.
Even as he’d been considering how exactly he would explain it all, as it seemed the task should fall to him as the man who most clearly understood what had happened, Vreyja had been eyeing him with skepticism. “We’ll tell them, grandling. While you join the Knights Corporealis and finish the quest that’s begun.”
“Finish the… quest?”
She gave him the same look she had since he was a child. Listen and be quiet. “I overheard enough from the Vinnrics, and know enough from our own history along with what Griggory has shared, to know this isn’t over. Hardly. It has, in fact, only begun. Now, you are something special. I’ve known it since you were too short to bite my knee, and because of that you’ve been chosen for something even more important than you ever imagined. You’re not a Himmingazian anymore, grandling. Or not merely one. Now you’re a part of the Great Cosmos, and if you want those you love”—she gave Cote a pointed look—“to live the lives they deserve, you’ll do what’s necessary to ensure they have that chance.”
Few people had ever been able to persuasively argue a point against his gramsirene. Jaemus was not one of them.
Cote had stepped to his side then. “I’ll be here waiting, Jae. We’ll let the Council know what you’ve done, and we’ll be ready for you when you return. And you know what else? You’re a hero now. Don’t forget it, because I never will.”
After a more emotional goodbye than Jaemus was going to admit, he’d returned to the Knights on Stonering’s shore.
Now, Stave stepped up and whacked his shoulder good-naturedly. Despite the fact that the much shorter man had to reach up to do it, he never failed to make Jaemus wobble a bit with his physical chumminess.
“Glad to have you with us, Knight Bardgrim. Or is it Mystae now?” Stave asked.
Jaemus gave him a thin smile. “Jae will do.”
“Knight it is, then,” said Stave and returned his focus to the group. “Now, what’s our first step going to be?”
Sighing inwardly, Jaemus turned his focus to the future as well. Heading back to Vinnr, obviously, he thought. Then… well, Jaemus, if nothing else, Vigil Tower had a lot of inventions you didn’t get to explore yet. Maybe you’ll get a chance to help Ulfric perfect those wing sets you never got a chance to test. You may be the least sword-savvy Knight… Mystae… whatever, who ever lived, but you can still show them a thing or two about contriving ways to flee certain death.
Chapter Eleven
Urgo was hungry, and Ulfric realized the bruhawk probably wasn’t the only one. He’d been so caught up in the urgency of defeating Balavad that he’d forgotten that his lack of physical form didn’t mean the rest of his Knights didn’t still have normal human needs. As the old saying went, an army, like a serpent, travels on its belly. The Knights may have been few in number, but in the coming days, and indeed in days gone by, they were no less an army.
Soon, friend, we’ll find something for you to eat, he told Urgo via their mindlink.
“If I were planning to control Vinnr, the first place I’d fortify with an armed horde of those ugly creatures would be the starpath well, I would,” Stave was saying.
“You have an excellent point, Stave,” Symvalline responded. “It’s only been a short while since Ulfric, the hawks, and I saw Eisa in Arc Rheunos. She had a force of at least a dozen Dyrrak Raveners with her, and for all we know, they’ve taken over Mount Omina since returning. Our first challenge is going to simply be entering Vinnr.”
They all nodded thoughtfully.
“If she is there, that’ll make the next part of the plan that much easier, it will,” Stave continued. “She’s got Balavad’s Scrylle and a Fenestros—though ‘got’ is a strange way of putting it, it is. In any case, we’d be able to take them, regardless of how many of those gangly bastirts she’s leading.”
Ulfric caught the look Mallich threw Stave. It wasn’t quite hostility, but it was close. Mallich and Eisa had lived side by side for centuries. They were closer than most brothers and sisters, and he often wondered how far Mallich’s affection for Eisa went, or rather, where it stopped. The Yorish Knight had never taken a lover or a heartmatch in all his hundreds of turns, but his loyalty to Eisa had been constant, as unwavering as everything else about him.
Darkly, though, he suspected Stave was right. Eisa may have increased power and resilience from Balavad’s affliction, but he was sure they could defeat her with their greater numbers and the aid of both Vaka Aster’s and Lífs’s artifacts. His eyes strayed to Jaemus. That was, if the Himmingazian Knight consented to their use of them.
“None of us should doubt that facing Eisa, or what she’s become, will be difficult if we encounter her at Mount Omina,” he said through the memory keeper. “And that’s an important point we must all bear in mind, as hard as it might be. We don’t know if she is still Eisa, deep inside. We simply have no way of judging how deeply hollowed out Balavad may have—”
“I’m stopping you there, Ulfric,” Mallich cut in. “We’ve all seen with our own eyes that every transformed Ivoryssian and Yorish Vaka Aster brought back from Balavad’s warship retained who they were after she withdrew Balavad’s poison. Eisa is Eisa, and we still owe her the same loyalty we owe each other. None of us should forget it.”
He was right, and Ulfric was ashamed for a moment about what he’d said. But it was Stave who pointed out: “That may be, Roi, but whether she’s herself or no, we can’t let her go about killin’ all those too weak to kill her first. She’s one of us, she is, and that means it’s not just our duty but our responsibility as her friends and companions to stop her if she tries to do something we all know she would never do if she could help it.”
The two Knights stared each other down, Stave having to look up to meet Mallich’s eyes. Neither would budge if pushed, and Ulfric forged ahead, trusting neither would hesitate to do what had to be done when the situation was at hand.
“And if she isn’t there,” he said, “we’ll still have to face her eventually. But we’ll get to that later. First, obviously, we must get home, then we’ll go straight to Asteryss and Vigil Tower.”
Vigil Tower? Safran asked. Not directly to Dyrrakium?
“No. Even if the Dyrrak forces haven’t gained control of the starpath, they’ll know better than to leave the interrealm well in Dyrrakium unguarded. And there is a task for us in Asteryss first. We’re assuming Balavad will use the Dyrrak people as his new army for spreading his dominion. Truth be told, given how prepared the Dyrraks were to aggress against Ivoryss before Balavad had even gained the foothold he now has, we already know our assumptions are correct. So…” He paused, turning the idea over in his mind once more, then continued, “We need to meet with Arch Keeper Beatte, and the Yorish Keeper as well if he’s still there, and persuade them to surrender to Balavad when he comes.”
Stave let out a mocking bray, then clammed up quickly, realizing Ulfric was serious. “The Dragør Marines surrender to those painted zealots? Ulfric, Ivoryss may have taken a beating by Balavad’s first assault, but those people aren’t going to just lie down for another one.”
“I know it won’t be easy. But what’s better? Either they swallow their pride and save their remaining people from slaughter while we try to salvage the future of the Great Cosmos—or they die in waves the likes of which haven’t died since the War of Rivening two thousand turns ago, where death would be their best outcome.”
Stave bowed his head and stared at his boots, chagrined, as Mallich spoke. “You know I don’t relish the thought of a war, but as we’ve already discussed, Vinnr at war would make a useful distraction for Balavad and his Raveners. It may be the only real advantage we have, the one we need to get back to the Dyrrakium citadel and get you and Vaka Aster out.”
“Agreed
,” Ulfric said. “But the Dyrraks, the Raveners that is, will still come for Ivoryss, whether the Ivoryssians stand down or not. Some will fight back, even if Beatte commands them not to, but they will be overcome. Likely sooner than later. And when they are, the Dyrrak Raveners will have to leave an occupation force there to control them. Which means Balavad’s army will be busy for a time. May be enough time for us to do what needs to be done.”
“What that really means is that we’ll have to work as fast as possible,” Symvalline said. “Our duty is to Vaka Aster first, but that doesn’t mean we can face this task without accepting that the lives of all Vinnrics depend on us too.”
Ulfric looked around at their faces and saw no dissent. Their resoluteness was as reliable as time, and a wave of pride and gratitude to have such fine friends and companions washed through him. Then he caught Jaemus’s expression.
In other circumstances, the Himmingazian’s tightly pinched face might have been comical. It looked as though he thought himself surrounded by lunatics proposing a plan that seemed to him to be the pinnacle of madness, but about which he completely agreed. It was a dyspeptic, almost apologetic expression.
“Bardgrim,” Ulfric said. “What are your thoughts?”
Jaemus opened his mouth, closed it abruptly, then cleared his throat. Finally, he said, “I think, erm, the Fenestrii can be used to help us speak to each other over farther distances than our own Mentalios lenses, correct?”
Surprised at where this was leading, Ulfric nodded.
“In that case, along with us learning the way to unmake the Verity cage, we should split the Fenestrii up among us. It could help if we were to get separated.” His mouth remained open for a moment as he considered what else to say, then he shrugged and went quiet.
Stave immediately jumped in. “Spoken like a true strategist, that was, novice. Being twice ordained seems to have given you a boost in the brains, huh?”
“My brains have never needed a boost, actually,” Jaemus came back.
Not in the least rebuffed, Stave went on. “It’s true, it’s true. But don’t make me feel useless just yet. I’m still going to turn you into a battle-axe-brandishing beast yet, I am. Speaking of which, where might Himmingaze stash all its weapons? The kind that can smash a Verity? They’ll come in handy against the Raveners, and that worm-slurper’s vessel if needs be.”
Of the many things Stave had just said that might have put Jaemus on his back foot, the last was the only one that did. “Weapons? Himmingazians aren’t, ehm, warfare focused. As far as I know, the most dangerous weapons we have are shelksies and shullets, and those only put you to sleep for a time.”
Stave eyed Jaemus expectantly for a moment, as if patiently awaiting the end of the joke. When it didn’t come, he said thoughtfully, “I suppose that makes sense, seeing how easily Eisa was able to tromp the old Mystae that started Himmingaze’s troubles to begin with.”
Ulfric raised his eyebrows at Stave’s statement. Eisa had only confessed her indiscretion to him, when they’d been alone aboard the ships heading to Dyrrakium. How had Stave known?
Stave caught his glance. “I may not be as gray-haired as you, Ulfric, but I’m not exactly a novice like Jaemus here either. Eisa never told me the story, but it ate at her, it did. Made her Mentalios discipline when you and her were talking a touch flimsy. We all know what happened here, and what she did.”
“We do?” Jaemus said. “All but one, you mean.”
“Two, actually,” Symvalline added.
Stave eyed Ulfric, waiting for him to stand aside or confess in Eisa’s stead. Ulfric wanted to do neither. Eisa had confessed her mistake to him, and though it had been nearly literally world-ending, her wrong had been righted and she had redeemed herself. What good did it do to disparage her now, after she’d given so much of herself to duty for so long? Had, in fact, given everything, in the end.
Stave must have sensed his quandary and mumbled an explanation to the others. “She—she put down the Mystae who needed putting down.” With a scowl, he finished, “And so here we are.”
Ulfric? Symvalline said. Is there more I need to know?
No, Sym. That will do. Eisa is not blameless, but she has paid the price for deeds that are now buried under so much history that they no longer need to be remembered.
She gave the inward sigh that meant she accepted his words, and he moved on to gauge Jaemus’s reaction. The ’Gazian seemed steady enough, accepting too without needing the details. Ulfric wondered briefly what his experience of Eisa had been, and what impression he’d had. Something told him it wouldn’t have been wholly convivial. But then, only a handful of people in the worlds had had any kind of bond with the second-eldest Knight—now third, given that Griggory was still alive. Can she still be considered a Knight, though? he wondered. After what she’s become, is there any of the true Eisa left in her? If there is, how are we to reach her?
He shook off his dark musings and addressed his companions. “All right then. First, you all need to know how to create the cage that will hold Balavad for eternity, and then how to unmake it. Then we’ll be ready to face the tyrant and get revenge for the many lives he’s cost. In all the realms.”
Even as he said the words, Ulfric marveled at them. I’ve become a man of the people instead of protector of the vessel. If I ever confront Vaka Aster again, it will be interesting to see what her judgment will be.
Chapter Twelve
A blast of power, a fragmented sense of reality, a whoosh that easily outsped a shooting star, and the next moment, the six Knights and two bruhawks were dropped onto the rocky flank of Mount Omina.
Each of them who stood on two legs, save Jaemus and Symvalline, were on their feet and brandishing their klinkí stones almost instantly. Symvalline was up just as fast, but though her klinkí stones had been destroyed, she had been reunited with her forearm crossbows. The bruhawks were able to find currents of air to settle slowly before their talons touched the earth. Urgo alighted next to Jaemus, who was holding his head as if he’d slept in a vat of ale and had just now regained consciousness.
One benefit of age, I suppose, thought Ulfric, I’m better accustomed to being harrowed by wystic and celestial forces than a novice like Jaemus. But he’s gaining experience faster than most. He’ll be nearly as proficient a Knight as our Mylla soon enough.
“I’m never going to get good at this,” Jaemus proclaimed loudly. “It’s like having your body shoved through a grater, then mushed back together and shocked by a pond of eels.”
“Hush!” Mallich warned. “We’re in the open.” The Yorish Knight yanked Jaemus to his feet and shoved him behind a large boulder with char marks covering one side. Jaemus gave a grunt but managed to hold his tongue.
Instilling a common-sense understanding of danger in him is going to be one of the bigger challenges, Ulfric thought. Or maybe just some common sense.
Urgo perched atop the same boulder and scanned the surroundings, giving Ulfric a long view of Mount Omina’s western flank.
The starpath had delivered them near the ruined cave they’d used as a sanctuary and hideout for so long. Its gaping entryway was visible only a few hundred feet away, the wooden lintel beams that had buttressed it for ages now sagging and splintering. Something would need to be done to brace them before long, or the Knights would lose access to the interrealm well hub completely.
Ulfric had developed the interrealm wells through trial and error and the application of every wystic power he could access nearly a thousand turns ago now. There were five other portals in Vinnr, and each of those would lead directly here, to Mount Omina: one in the Citadel Suprima of Dyrrakium; one beneath Aster Keep in Ivoryss; another in Vigil Tower; another in the Knight’s Temple in Umborough, the capital of Yor; and the last in Magdaster in the extreme north of Ivoryss. Of course, only Knights who had a Mentalios lens and knew the proper incantation could trigger them, but they could bring along passengers.
Over the turns, they had been cru
cial in untold conflicts and predicaments, allowing the Knights to share information over vast distances almost instantly compared to typical modes of transportation, and allowing them to be prepared for anything they needed to be long before commoners possibly could.
They had less vital advantages as well, Ulfric acknowledged, remembering when Symvalline had come home to Vigil Tower unexpectedly from a jaunt in Yor on a crisp winter evening a little over seventeen turns ago. She’d found Ulfric tinkering in one of his crafteries, and the moment she’d stepped in the doorway he’d seen how rosy her cheeks were and the unique shine to her eyes, and he’d known. They were going to be parents, and she’d come to share the joyful news.
He shook himself from the memory, feeling nearly dizzy with being overwhelmed and overjoyed at the same time. He’d just spent weeks thinking he’d lost Symvalline and Isemay. He’d wanted to kill the monster who’d taken them, and now he wasn’t even sure if he thought the monster was Vaka Aster or Balavad.
In the last few days, he kept having to remind himself that they were safe, not dead. He’d believed so strongly they weren’t. Looking through Urgo’s eyes toward Symvalline, that dizziness surged. No, not dizziness, a relief so great that he might have wept if he’d had eyes.
But a moment later he gritted his mental teeth against a sour roil in his core. Yes, they were alive and, at least for now, safe. But what of him? He could neither weep nor embrace his wife and daughter. Before he’d found them, he would have gladly died ten thousand times if it meant they’d be saved, but somehow knowing they had been, and that he was denied even the simple pleasure of touching them, was a cruel irony.