Knight Awoken

by Tammy Salyer

  “Your allies in Dyrrakium. You mean other Dyrraks?”

  “Yes, those whose loyalty to Vaka Aster is untainted. Believe me, it only took one look into the eyes of one of our transformed kin to know theirs is a death without dying that I want no part of.” She yanked her dagger from the desktop and seated it in a sheath in the small of her back. “And despite what you may think of the Dyrraks, Aldinhuus, this choice to attack Ivoryss and then Yor, it’s not a true choice. Most of my people are being used, as you said, like puppets. The quarrels we had with the lesser kingdoms are ancient. An age has passed, and it’s time to let our hatreds pass too. Perhaps if we already had, the three kingdoms would not have been so blind and would have seen Balavad’s true intentions sooner.”

  At that moment, Ulfric would have given half the glory and knowledge he’d gained in his life if Seldeg Aoggvír had been the Domine Ecclesium instead of Starkas Nazaria. “Why have you and others not been turned? Doesn’t Balavad seek to control everyone?”

  “The foreign Verity needs us, leaders and those with particular talents. It seems to be harder to control the Raveners the farther away they are, so she has left some who’ve proved their loyalty as we are, unchanged.”

  The way Aoggvír’s eyes hardened again at her last statement made Ulfric decide not to question exactly how they were made to prove their loyalty. “Chancellor,” he said, “I need to reach your allies in Dyrrakium. I know how to free Vaka Aster, and I’m the only one who can do it.”

  She scoffed. “You’re nothing but a voice in a rock. What can you do as you are?”

  “The Knights retained Vaka Aster’s Scrylle. With it—”

  “Then where are they? Why aren’t they here?” Her tone had an edge, part from anger, but, Ulfric suspected, part from desperation. “You’ve failed Vinnr and you’ve failed Vaka Aster too many times to be trusted further with this task, Stallari of the dishonored Knights Corporealis or not.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Aoggvír. The realm doesn’t have time for it.”

  He could see the words struck her like a slap, but they needed to be said. Even with her flowery talk of putting hatreds aside, she was still as fallible as the next person. Being filled with Dyrrak pride didn’t shield her from fear, and fear, if left unchecked, eventually made anyone’s sense of reason questionable.

  “He speaks the truth, Chancellor.” Sveinungr’s comment drew the ice of her stare, but he continued undeterred, albeit with carefully lowered and visible hands. “The Knights Corporealis may be all that stands between the rest of us becoming Balavad’s slaves. And”—he glanced at Ulfric—“who else can stand against the Nazarian, now?”

  At the mention of Eisa, Ulfric asked, “What’s become of Knight Nazaria?”

  Looking troubled, the chancellor said briefly, “She’s gone to the south. No one knows why, only that she was sent by Balavad.”

  The south? Dyrrakium’s Anzuru Desert took up the continent’s southern half, a hostile landscape. No humans lived there, only dragørs, and even those had long since retreated to their towering aeries, rarely seen by people. There was nothing there for her to do but become a dragør’s lunch.

  Yet, this could be a boon. If Ulfric could free Vaka Aster before Eisa returned to Elezaran, Vaka Aster could undo the desecration Balavad had wrought on his fellow Knight. If Ulfric could press Vaka Aster to save her, he would beg on his knees if it came to that. He owed Eisa that and more.

  Ulfric charged ahead. “You want to know what I can do, Chancellor?” He smiled. “I can be anyone who touches the pendant.” They all looked at him, even Egsil, with puzzled expressions. “When Venerate Egsil said she heard voices on the deck, she did. Mine, from within her own mind.”

  “That’s…” Aoggvír trailed off, her expression doubtful. Egsil, on the other hand, was nodding her head vigorously, as if learning the answer to a question that had stumped her.

  “Hold the pendant, Chancellor. I can show you,” Ulfric said.

  “Don’t be stupid, Aldinhuus. I don’t have time for it,” Aoggvír rejoined his earlier barb testily. “Sveinungr, remove Egsil’s gag. Venerate, don’t shout or draw attention. If you cooperate, your sacrifice for Vaka Aster may not be needed in the end.”

  Egsil nodded and Sveinungr did as told.

  “Now prove what you’ve told us, Aldinhuus,” Aoggvír commanded.

  Ulfric took his focus from the pendant and settled back into Egsil’s mind. Do you hear me, Venerate?

  She flinched, the action visible to everyone in the room. “Yes.”

  Tell me something about yourself that I couldn’t know, but they would.

  “I—”

  No, not aloud.

  Grasping his meaning, she withdrew into her thoughts with him. Her mental voice started out hesitant, but quickly grew equal parts confounded and infuriated. You can hear my thoughts?

  Yes.

  How—why are you in my head? Get out!

  I wish to, but first you must help me. Let me do what’s necessary to convince the chancellor, and I will do everything in my power to see you are spared. You have my word. Now, what’s something they’d know but I wouldn’t about you?

  She thought briefly, then said, In my Third Phase fight, I was stabbed in the liver. My opponent slipped in my blood, and I used the advantage to slash a tendon in her left knee. I won the fight.

  The ferocity of this altercation took Ulfric a moment to contemplate, as did the apparent genius of the Dyrrak healers who could save a woman from having her liver pierced by a dagger.

  Tell them! she demanded, not appreciating her nonconsensual relationship with him in the least.

  He relayed the story through the pendant, watching the chancellor’s face closely to gauge her reaction.

  “Who was the opponent?” she asked.

  “Gara Aoggvír,” he passed on, wondering at the relationship to the chancellor.

  Aoggvír’s eyes flicked between the pendant and Egsil for several beats. Eventually, she said, “My niece still limps, Venerate, but you impressed many with your skills that day.”

  Cautious relief flooded Ulfric’s host. “Thank you, Chancellor,” she said. “I—”

  Aoggvír’s raised hand stopped whatever she’d been about to say. The chancellor beckoned to Sveinungr, who stepped up close enough that she could speak into his ear. Ulfric wished he were still benefiting from the heightened senses of the bruhawks, and a moment later, Sveinungr looked down at the pendant and cautiously lifted the box it lay in.

  “Say nothing,” he told Ulfric, then stepped out of the cabin. On the other side of the cabin door, he said quietly, “Ask the venerate to stomp her feet. Twice with the left, followed by twice with the right.”

  Clever, Ulfric thought, then passed on the instructions to Egsil.

  The door was opened a moment later and Aoggvír stood there. “Most impressive, Aldinhuus. Perhaps you will be useful to us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nothing in Ulfric’s last few weeks had been predictable, even in his remotest imaginings, but perhaps the least predictable was this moment—being ensconced within the mind of a high-ranking Dyrrak warrior and flying aboard one of their fighter crafts into the heart of Dyrrakium to steal back his body and his Verity.

  Once Aoggvír believed Ulfric could do what he said he could, it hadn’t taken less time to convince her that he was more of an asset than anything else she and her cohorts had at their disposal and persuade her to work with him. She’d seen the wisdom in sending Ulfric to Elezaran and the Citadel Suprima at once, and had even considered allowing him to take residence in her own mind. In the end, though, she couldn’t abdicate her responsibility to the advance fleet without arousing suspicion. Sveinungr, however, had more flexibility and had insisted he become Ulfric’s host. Once Ulfric joined him, he found it unsurprising how alike he and the Dyrrak man thought, at least tactically, and their partnership had so far been nearly seamless.

  If nothing else came of it, Ulfric was relie
ved that he had managed to save Egsil’s life. He’d sworn he’d help her if he could, and he’d not yet let go of his need to stand by his promises. More simply, he didn’t want to live with the knowledge that she’d died needlessly simply for doing her job, even if her job had been to attack the Ivoryssians when her commanders ordered it. Unbending loyalty and strict adherence to discipline were instilled in every Dyrrak from birth, and Ulfric couldn’t blame her for being who she was. In his own younger years, he’d followed orders more than once without looking deeper at their provenance and knew the power of unquestioned allegiance.

  In the end, both he and Aoggvír had asked the Third Phase whether, after all she’d overheard, she could be trusted to remain loyal to Vaka Aster and conceal Aoggvír and her cohorts’ plans—or not. Naturally, she’d insisted she was trustworthy, a dedicated devotee to their maker with faith eternal. Ulfric had probed as deeply into her thoughts, even those she tried to guard, as he could, using his substantial mental strength to drill into and assess the veracity of her promise, and he’d been convinced she would do as she’d said. She, too, hated what Balavad was doing to her fellow Dyrraks, and it didn’t require much imagination to see that being a Ravener wasn’t a savory existence. Convincing Aoggvír of Egsil’s obedience had taken some doing, but because it was obvious Ulfric’s special abilities gave him a kind of access to a person’s innermost mind that had no equal, she’d agreed to let Egsil live, though her every move, every breath, would be watched by those loyal to Aoggvír.

  We shall be there by High Halls tomorrow, Sveinungr sent, cutting into Ulfric’s own musings so easily it was as if he’d been doing it his whole life. I have known Venerate Egsil’s family since I was a child, and she will do as she promised.

  My apologies, Venerate Sveinungr, I didn’t realize my thoughts were being intrusive, Ulfric said.

  It’s fine. I feel it’s… better, for both of us, if we hide as little as possible from each other. And it’s Gusun. Just call me Gusun.

  I shall. Thank you.

  It will save time.

  Ulfric repressed a mental chuckle. The man’s pragmatism shouldn’t have surprised him.

  Gusun flew the small craft, virtually identical to the dragørfly scouts the Knights had built, expertly. They were flying southeast, leaving the night behind them, and would see the rising sun before Ivoryss did. Ulfric thought back to the hundreds of ships like this one he’d seen in the Dyrrak airfield from the top of the citadel, knowing that all of them were now once more on their way to Ivoryss. Instead of lining the airfield, they lined the decks of the Dyrrak fleet, saving energy to be used only for battle. This time there would be no turning the Dyrrak fleet back if Balavad ordered them to go to war. According to Havelock Rekkr, Ivoryss had fewer than three dozen of their own Wing fighters left. The Dyrraks could wipe them out in a breath.

  Ulfric had wanted Gusun to bring him to Magdaster, where he could retrieve Vaka Aster’s Scrylle. With it in Dyrrakium, he could perform the uncaging rite and release his Verity the instant he gained access to her. But that proved impracticable once he learned that the rest of the Dyrrak fleet was expected to join Aoggvír’s within two days. He and Gusun would lose those two days flying to Magdaster for the Scrylle, then another three at least getting to Dyrrakium. By that time, the Ivoryssian capital of Asteryss could be decimated, and the Dyrraks would be moving up the coast for Magdaster. He didn’t want to be caught there, and he had to trust the Knights and Nennus to hold them off.

  In fact, he’d pressed the chancellor to abandon her orders and surrender to the Knights. She’d flatly refused—not that Ulfric had expected differently. Her precise words were “If you fail—again—to free Vaka Aster, you’ll leave me no choice but to fight. Ivoryss will come for Vaka Aster’s vessel, if they have any honor in them. My people have no reason to think they’ll be any more merciful toward us than fate would force us to be toward them. I’d rather have my skin ripped from my bones and flown as a flag than betray Dyrrakium and its people or taint our worthiness.”

  It was just like speaking with Eisa. Leaving only one course remaining to him. He had to reclaim his body, and Vaka Aster, as soon as possible. Caging Balavad to put an end to the Verity’s assaults for good was still the ultimate goal, but taking the option for Balavad to simply wipe Vinnr out by destroying Vaka Aster’s vessel was the more prudent and potentially more achievable step now, given Aoggvír’s accomplices in Dyrrakium.

  He’d considered sending Urgo and Yggo to Magdaster with a message for the Knights about the evolving plan, with instructions to wait for him there. The Knights needed to be ready. Once he had Vaka Aster back, he would bring the vessel to them. That, however, would have left him completely at the Dyrraks’ mercy, and he had to admit, he didn’t trust them fully, no matter how much it was in his interest to do so. The Knights were capable, smart, and knew the stakes. And Aoggvír had sworn she would hold off the fleet for as long as she could, until she had word from Dyrrakium regarding Ulfric’s success or failure. Thus it was decided that the bruhawks would stay with Ulfric. Their dragør lineage and Verity sparks gave them the strength and speed to reach Dyrrakium alongside Gusun’s fighter.

  Gusun’s thoughts began to lose their sharpness, and when he yawned, Ulfric realized the Dyrrak was growing tired. They’d been aloft for quite some time, and was approaching Hallumbrum a full day after their middle-of-the-night departure.

  Get some sleep, Gusun, Ulfric said. I can fly us the rest of the way.

  What?

  Trust me. You aren’t the first person I’ve done this with. If you close your eyes, I can see from the memory keeper. I don’t need to sleep, but you’ll be responsible for a much greater task than landing this craft come tomorrow. We both need you fresh.

  Though the man’s doubts came through to Ulfric, he nevertheless let his posture relax and his head rest on the back of the pilot seat. With Ulfric’s steady, smooth flying, it didn’t take long for his eyes to shut and his breathing to deepen.

  As calm as any Knight, Ulfric mused. It’s time, past time in fact, for the Dyrraks to rejoin the rest of Vinnr. As Aoggvír said, we’re far too hindered by our disunity, and the price we’ve paid has been much too high.

  Gusun awoke at Ulfric’s summoning just before reaching Elezaran and landed the fighter smoothly in the airfield near the city. Immediately, a squad of Dyrrak Raveners and a singular unchanged Dyrrak surrounded the craft with weapons drawn. Gusun wasn’t exactly taken into custody like a criminal, but they hadn’t expected him and he was therefore not trusted to walk freely.

  A Fourth Phase venerate, the only non-Ravener, took charge as Sveinungr dismounted. “Fifth Phase, your arrival was not planned. I’ve been instructed to bring you to the Domine Ecclesium at once.”

  Inwardly, Gusun warned Ulfric, This soldier is not among my and Aoggvír’s friends. Don’t do or say anything. I’ll handle this.

  Ulfric was content to watch and wait, as they had planned for this. The Domine Ecclesium would be their first trial, and their cover story had already been prepared. After Gusun was allowed to return to the Phalanx, they’d meet the rest of Vaka Aster’s loyalists and move forward with their plan to acquire Ulfric’s body.

  Gusun reached for his glaive, a move Ulfric flinched at. Would this squad see this as a threat and react accordingly? His worry proved unnecessary. A Dyrrak’s weapon was as much a part of their uniform as their Phase markings, and the squad ignored the movement. Besides, what did a squad of ten against one have to be concerned about?

  As they made their way up the Citadel Suprima’s rampart toward the gallery leading inside, Ulfric steeled himself against the fresh memories of the horrors he’d witnessed on these stairs—Eisa’s mutilation, the Knights hanging from grotesque cages by their heads, and worst, Balavad’s reemergence in Vinnr—as well as against the sinister pall of quiet that lay over the city and the citadel. There’d only been about a hundred fighters remaining in the airfield, and the amphitheater of seats surro
unding the citadel’s courtyard was completely empty. He didn’t even hear sounds coming over the walls from the enormous city outside. Dyrrakium had mobilized for war, and now the majority of them were either fortifying their homes or were aboard the fleet of hundreds of ships that was headed for Ivoryss.

  Was Balavad among that fleet, or was the Verity here? According to Gusun, when Her Holiness was in Elezaran, she spoke to few besides the Ecclesium, and it was unlikely they’d face her. Ulfric, only partly confident he would not be visible to the Verity’s eyes through Gusun’s own, hoped he was right.

  They found the Ecclesium in a planning room off the main hall.

  Their Fourth Phase escort saw herself into the chamber, whose door was ajar. “Domine Ecclesium, I have Fifth Phase Venerate Sveinungr with me. He just now arrived.”

  The Ecclesium looked up from the table he sat at, which was covered with scrolls, pens, ink, and books. Looking into Starkas Nazaria’s face, Ulfric’s loathing pulsed through his ephemeral self as strongly as any hurricane had ever crashed against a beachhead. Despite being very tired of seeing so much death of late, his dedication to justice had not diminished. And death was the only justice that could serve a man who’d betrayed not only his adversaries but also his own people.

  “Alone?” the Ecclesium asked mildly.

  “Yes, Domine Ecclesium.”

  The Ecclesium rose from his chair and beckoned to the venerate. “Bring him in.”

  Gusun stepped in front of their escort and dipped his head respectfully. “Domine Ecclesium, I’ve brought an urgent dispatch from Chancellor Aoggvír.”

  The Dyrrak Ravener squad had followed Gusun inside and arrayed themselves beside and behind him, but the Ecclesium’s eyes remained fixed unflinchingly on Gusun. They were unreadable, but Ulfric would never think of them as mild. As sharp as a bruhawk’s, and as shrewd. As Gusun faced the Dyrrak leader, Ulfric noted something interesting, however. The man’s hair, previously black and only lightly streaked with gray, was now uniformly steel colored. It seemed being the turncoat that led to the downfall of one’s own empire was taking its toll on the man.